


An Unpleasant Task

by AmberBrown



Series: Earning Their Keep [32]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Exploitation, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-06 00:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17929325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: ‘The carriage will not be empty. Decoys are to be used in place of the Royals...expendable decoys. You are to concentrate on neutralising the threat and taking captives…’Athos held up his hand to stop Treville, ‘expendable decoys?’Treville nodded sadly, ‘it has been decided that condemned prisoners, from the Chatelet, will be used to act as the Royal family.’The Musketeers are tasked with foiling an attack on the King and Queen.





	1. The Briefing

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct follow on from the previous story, 'Touch'. I have included some details of that story within the narrative so you should get the general gist of that one if you have not read it.  
> Aramis and d'Artagnan are in an established relationship but are both recovering from the events of 'Touch'.  
> I will post a couple of chapters a day (real life permitting).

Aramis collected two glasses and the bottle of wine from the shelf above the table. The glasses had been a gift from one of his mistresses that he had not sold, he liked the way the light reflected off the fancily cut glass. He did not own many fancy things and what he did own were gifts. Even the clothing he was wearing had been gifted to him. After his unfortunate visit to the Chatelet, as a prisoner, all his possessions had either been stolen or destroyed by the Red Guard that had arrested him. If it had not been for his friends and mistresses replacing his belongings he doubted he would be so well dressed even now, a year later. 

He opened the wine and poured, filling the two glasses, he knew d’Artagnan would not be long. His lover had been standing guard at the Palace during the day whilst he was patrolling with Athos. 

D’Artagnan had been trying not to show it but he was preoccupied, the events the previous month had left him traumatised. They had tried to work through it, tried to get back to normal but Aramis feared his lover would never recover fully, never be able to fully relax when they were together. 

His lover blamed himself for the horrible events that had occurred when they had been captured and abused by a sadistic wealthy man a few weeks before. In a twisted form of entertainment, the man had forced d’Artagnan to fuck a fully restrained and unaware Aramis. The event had left them both suffering. Aramis wanted to concentrate on d’Artagnan. He did not want to face his own issues. 

It had taken him a while to accept that he had been affected, his worry for his lover had been all-consuming to start with. What d’Artagnan had been forced to do was so abhorrent to the younger man that he had barely spoken to Aramis for several days, he had not even been able to confess all that had gone on for a while. 

But when he had they had rallied around d’Artagnan. Both Athos and Porthos had talked to him, spent time with him, allowed him to talk to them at his own pace. Aramis had waited for his lover to come to him, which he had eventually. It had been stilted and awkward to begin with, but on a simple mission alone they had been given the opportunity to be intimate again. It had worked, to a certain extent.

They had slept together, Aramis had allowed d’Artagnan to dictate the pace. D’Artagnan had wanted Aramis to have sex with him, but so far had not been able to take the same role himself. 

And secretly Aramis was glad. When he had found out it was d’Artagnan who had effectively raped him, Aramis had been shocked into silence. Athos and Porthos were worried about d’Artagnan, about how deeply the event had affected him. None of them had questioned how Aramis felt, he realised he must have hidden his own pain so well that they had not noticed the shock and horror that the revelation had caused him. 

When Aramis had been alone and able to think it through he had broken down. The thought of what d’Artagnan had done to him had left him wondering, for a few moments, if he blamed his lover. Was there nothing d’Artagnan could have done? Was there no way for the man who had not been restrained to prevent the assault? Aramis had been completely helpless and at the mercy of their captor. D’Artagnan was free to fight back. Why had he not?

Those few moments of tormented thoughts had felt like a hundred years. But Aramis had finally seen sense. He knew his lover had only done what he had in order to save his life. 

D’Artagnan had raped him to save him. 

And now Aramis was left with a fear of how he would react when his lover recovered enough to have sex with him again. Would he panic? Would he push the man away? Would he fight his lover off him, knowing what he had done, even though he knew the reason?

Aramis wanted d’Artagnan to recover but also feared what that recovery would bring to himself. 

Athos and Porthos had noticed that they were still being affected by the attack, that their relationship had not fully returned to the way it had been. Athos had told him privately that as long as the issues d’Artagnan had did not affect their work he would not mention anything, but that they had to be careful not to let the issues spill into their working relationship. 

The whole situation annoyed him, he hated what they had become. They had been enjoying a close, relaxed, equal, relationship. But now they were reduced to carefully choreographed moves with each other, seeing permission before each tentative touch they shared. 

Aramis looked at the deep pink couch longingly, they had not fully relaxed on it for weeks. Not stretched out together entwined touching and teasing each other or with one of them holding the other as they fell asleep enjoying the warmth of the fire. 

Their relationship was not the same. D’Artagnan was blaming himself and struggling to get back to normal, while Aramis was conflicted and had not spoken about his own issues. 

A light knock on the door caused him to sigh, his lover had even stopped inviting himself into his rooms. There was an awkwardness between them that Aramis did not think they had even experienced when they had first been seeing each other. 

He crossed the room to the door, he paused and took a breath, pushing all the negativity from his mind. It was time to concentrate on his lover again. Time to help his continued recovery, even if that would mean him having to face up to his own problems. 

MMMM

D’Artagnan knocked on the door, he knew he was welcome to just walk in, knew that was what Aramis wanted, but he could not do that. It did not feel right. It was not the same. 

The others had assured him he was not to blame. Aramis had told him that he did not blame him and would not rush him. D’Artagnan knew that Aramis was desperate for them to get back to how things had been before. 

The sex was not the only thing their relationship was about, but it certainly played a major part. Before they had both enjoyed the sex, quick fucks and slow, drawn-out lovemaking. They had both taken part equally, either leading or being led, taking turns to dictate who did what and how. Aramis had shown him that even the man taking the perceived submissive role was often very much in charge of what was going on. 

D’Artagnan had loved the equality, the fun, the love, that they shared. And now it was gone, he wished he could get back to normal, but it was difficult. They had slept together, they had both taken the lead, although d’Artagnan knew that Aramis was wary of dictating the pace. And since their capture and the horrific assault, d’Artagnan had been incapable of having sex with Aramis, it was always the Aramis having sex with him. D’Artagnan knew Aramis missed it and wished he could recover fully.

He heard Aramis moving on the other side of the door, he forced himself to stand straighter, ready to look as though he was happy to be there. 

Aramis opened the door with a smile, d’Artagnan could not tell if it was genuine or not, they had both been hiding their true feelings for some time now. Both telling the other that they were fine, that there was no blame. 

‘Taking it slowly,’ said Aramis, his smile becoming more genuine as he spoke.

‘Taking it slowly,’ replied d’Artagnan with a real smile of his own. 

He stepped into Aramis’ arms, they embraced for a few seconds. Each man enjoying the closeness of the other. 

‘I have wine,’ said Aramis as they pushed apart. 

D’Artagnan nodded with another smile, he moved forward again and kissed his lover. At least he had recovered enough to touch his lover again, to hold him and to kiss him. 

D’Artagnan stepped fully into the room and started to pull off his weapons, and doublet. He pulled out a chair and sat down to pull off his boots. Aramis had picked up the glasses and moved to sit on the couch. 

D’Artagnan watched him for a few seconds remembering the previous evening when they had awkwardly sat together for a while before retiring to bed. They were able to enjoy themselves in bed to a certain extent but relaxing on the couch seemed a bit beyond them for some reason. It was odd that some things seemed to be working out and some did not. D’Artagnan felt as though he was letting them both down with his inability to fully relax and recover. He was determined to keep trying, though he knew Aramis would not rush him. 

Before d’Artagnan joined Aramis on the couch he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a money bag. After weighing it in his hand for a few seconds he dropped it onto the table. The coins clinking together as they fell, followed by a loud thump as the bag hit the wooden surface. He looked at it for a few seconds before moving to sit with Aramis. He swung his legs up and leaned back allowing his lover to shift them both until they were comfortable. D’Artagnan made a concerted effort to relax.

‘What’s that?’ asked Aramis after they were settled.

D’Artagnan had wondered how long Aramis would wait to ask? Wondered if he would recognise the bag?

‘That was our payment...from Clement,’ he said quietly.

He felt Aramis tense up slightly at the man’s name. Clement, the man responsible for what could have been the end of their relationship, what could still be the end of their relationship. The man who had left them, left him, unable to fully participate in their relationship. He knew Aramis thought no less of him, but d’Artagnan thought less of himself.

D’Artagnan moved his hand to stroke Aramis’ arm. Aramis was staring at the bag. They both knew it contained a substantial amount of money. More than both of their wages for a year combined. The money could see them both comfortable for some time.

But d’Artagnan knew that Aramis would be thinking the same as him. He would not want to spend the money. The money they had received as payment for being used, abused and assaulted by the wealthy man.

‘Why have you brought it here?’ asked Aramis, unable to hide the disdain in his voice.

‘I don’t know what to do with it. I’d forgotten about it...no, that’s a lie. I wanted to forget about it. I wanted to forget all of it. But that’s not going to happen…’

Aramis tightened his embrace. D’Artagnan could tell his lover was still tense, the memories of what the man had made them do no doubt filling his mind.

‘I think,’ said Aramis after a few seconds, ‘that we will find a good cause for that money. We’ll know it when we find it. And that money will do some good.’

D’Artagnan nodded, he had known his lover would know what to do with the money. Aramis kissed his temple and squeezed him tighter still.

The closeness, the touch, which had so nearly been denied them, thanks to Clement, was all d’Artagnan needed at that moment, even if he was still struggling to go any further.

MMMM

The meeting was held behind closed doors, Porthos knew it had to be serious, probably a delicate matter that needed fewer people involved. Treville had nodded towards the four of them and then looked up at his office as he finished muster that morning. None of them had been given work which instantly had them on alert for an important mission. 

Porthos had felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect. They could do with a proper mission. Something to take their minds off the horrible events of the last few weeks. Something to distract his brothers from the assault they had endured. Perhaps doing some proper soldiering was what they all needed. 

He and Athos had been watching d’Artagnan closely, the young man was obviously still traumatised. He had improved a lot since he and Aramis had returned from their long delivery mission, the two men seemed comfortable around each other again, but something was still missing. Porthos was observant, he had not seen them disappearing into the stables for a few minutes now and then, had not seen them surreptitiously touching each other. There was a lack of contact between them, Porthos knew they were not fully recovered. D’Artagnan was trying, that was obvious, and Aramis was being very patient with his lover but it still upset Porthos to see his friends suffering. 

But now they were about to be given a job that would keep them all busy, perhaps the distraction would serve to help his brothers with their recovery. 

Treville had moved to stand behind his desk, his face serious. Porthos switched his thoughts from his brothers to the briefing.

‘This is something I don’t like to do,’ started Treville. ‘But I have been ordered to do it. There has been intelligence received - reliable intelligence - that the King’s carriage will be attacked in two days time.’

The revelation was not too much of a surprise, there were frequent attacks on the Royal family, either foiled before they began or stopped as they occurred. Porthos wondered what was different this time. 

‘The attack will happen in a quiet area. It is unlikely anyone will survive. The King and Queen are,’ Treville paused before correcting himself, ‘were planning a private visit to a friend just outside of Paris. There was to be no pomp and ceremony. It was not going to be circulated that they would even be away from the Palace. The entourage was going to be the Royal family, an aide to the King, a Lady in Waiting to the Queen, and three or four soldiers acting as guards.’

Treville paused again, he looked down for a few moments, he sighed. Porthos guessed what he was about to say was the part he did not like.

‘The King has agreed that the trip will still go ahead. I, and now you four, are the only people who will know the truth. The King, Queen and the two nobles who would have travelled with them are to remain at the Palace in their rooms. As far as the Palace is concerned they will be leaving later today and returning in three days time.’

‘Are we to watch the area where the attack is supposed to happen?’ asked Porthos. 

‘Not quite,’ replied Treville, ‘you four will act as the soldiers accompanying the Royal party.’

‘But any ambush will quickly realise the carriage is empty…’ said d’Artagnan.

‘The carriage will not be empty. Decoys are to be used in place of the Royals...expendable decoys. You are to concentrate on neutralising the threat and taking captives…’

Athos held up his hand to stop Treville, ‘expendable decoys?’

Treville nodded sadly, ‘it has been decided that condemned prisoners, from the Chatelet, will be used to act as the Royal family.’

Porthos saw Treville glance at Aramis fleetingly. Aramis had tensed up when the Chatelet was mentioned. Although fully recovered from his brief incarceration in the prison Porthos knew that Aramis would never forget the horrific time he spent there. 

‘Instruction has been sent to the prison for prisoners who are more likely to be compliant to be picked out. You are to go and select the ones who are closest in looks to the King and Queen.’

‘Will the prisoners know? Will they be given a choice? I know they are condemned but this sounds like a suicide mission. If we are not to defend their lives there is a strong chance they will be killed,’ asked Athos with a shake of his head.

‘They will be told that their sentences will be reduced to life imprisonment.’

‘Not much of an incentive,’ muttered Aramis.

Treville did not react to Aramis’ words.

‘I am sorry, but these are the orders I have received, and you four are the ones I want to carry them out.’

The four Musketeers looked at each other, the disgust at the plan clear on each of their faces. Porthos noted that d’Artagnan’s gaze had lingered on Aramis for a fraction of a second longer. Aramis did not appear to have noticed as he seemed to be lost in his own thought, which Porthos was not surprised about. 

‘If the prisoners turn out to not be as compliant as they are believed to be?’ asked Athos.

‘They are condemned,’ said Treville with a frown, ‘I do not think I need to spell it out to you.’

‘They really are expendable then aren’t they,’ said Porthos with a shake of his head.

‘I don’t like this plan,’ said Treville, ‘I suggested other methods but this is what was decided. This was what was decided in order to draw out the attackers.’

Treville paused for a few seconds before continuing, he spoke quieter causing all four Musketeers to take a step towards their Captain.

‘If none of the prisoners survives, you are not expected to return with their bodies. I will take your word for it that they died, I will not need proof.’

Treville looked at each of his men in turn. Each nodded their understanding, Porthos could not help a wry smile, their Captain was a good man. The chances were that the poor condemned prisoners would have been convicted on pathetic charges where they were merely trying to stay alive. Porthos doubted the Captain would be prepared to release dangerous men but a man who had been condemned to die for stealing a loaf of bread was no threat to the general populous, and it would be those unfortunates who would be the ones selected for the dangerous mission. 

‘I need you to leave for the Chatelet within the hour,’ said Treville by way of dismissal, ‘good luck gentlemen.’


	2. The Chatelet

As they filed out of the office Athos watched Aramis who had his head slightly bowed. It was obvious what was clouding his thoughts. Despite the other more recent issues his friend had, the Chatelet was always going to be a darkness that lingered within him. 

‘You do not have to come with us,’ Athos said quietly.

Aramis looked up at him before glancing at d’Artagnan and Porthos who had both stopped on the steps behind Athos. 

Aramis managed a sad smile, ‘thank you, but I am going with you. I am not going to let a building get the better of me. It was a year ago, I can walk in there a free man. I can do it.’

Athos wondered if Aramis was saying the words out loud for his own benefit more than for theirs.

‘And most of the guards and...interrogators...have changed since then. I doubt I will see anyone I recognise.’

Aramis looked at them for a few seconds. Porthos resumed his descent of the stairs, pausing briefly to rest his hand on Aramis’ shoulder before carrying on. D’Artagnan did the same as he passed, the look between them a little more intense. 

Athos disliked seeing his friends forced to hide their true feelings, but knew that d’Artagnan’s intense look was another one of thanks for what Aramis had endured in the Chatelet to keep the younger man safe. They were all grateful for Aramis’ bravery during his incarceration knowing that it could well have cost him his life. 

Aramis walked with Athos across the garrison yard towards the stables.

‘There will be no shame if you need to walk away when we get there,’ said Athos, ‘you may say you are prepared to face it, but it would be better if you just walked away if it does become too much.’

Aramis nodded, ‘thank you,’ he said quietly. 

Athos began to saddle his horse with the others. They worked in silence, each man contemplating the job they had been given. An unpleasant task but one that could see a threat to the Monarch dealt with. But at what cost? The condemned prisoners were being used for their gain. Was it better to die from the ball of a gun or the strike of a sword than at the end of a rope? Their deaths would be honourable but they would still be dead. Athos knew it would be difficult for them to accept that the prisoners were expendable. He knew that as soldiers they were, at times, expendable, but now they were asking untrained civilians to step into danger. 

He did not like the plan. But he was going to carry it out. The plan made sense, but that did not mean he had to agree with it. Athos hoped they could keep the prisoners alive and unofficially release them as Treville had suggested.

MMMM

D’Artagnan brought his horse closer to Aramis. Aramis glanced across to him and smiled. 

‘This is not the distraction I was hoping for when Treville called us in,’ Aramis said. ‘Coming back here is...difficult, I will admit that...but like I said before, I will not let a building beat me. Just let me deal with it. Please?’

D’Artagnan nodded, ‘just don’t bottle it up. If you need to talk some more about your time here, you know I will listen,’ replied d’Artagnan. ‘And I agree, this was not quite what I had in mind as a distraction from my issues.’

‘Not just your issues,’ Aramis said quietly, ‘you know you don’t have to deal with it alone. And I’ll still wait for as long as it takes. And if it never goes back to exactly the same as it was I will still be there.’

D’Artagnan looked at Aramis for a few seconds, wondering if there was something unsaid, something else his lover wanted to add, but he could not work out what that might be. 

They rode on in silence, the four of them contemplating the mission. An unpleasant task. He knew the condemned men and women they were going to collect from the Chatelet were not innocent, but he doubted that what they had done deserved either the death penalty or to be used as effective cannon fodder for a higher cause. 

As the Chatelet came into view with its imposing walls they all looked up. Each man lost in thought, d’Artagnan had not been with Treville and Athos when they had collected Aramis from the prison, he had not seen just how much the prison was affecting his lover when he had been forced to watch another man put to death, knowing the same fate was likely in store for him. Aramis was staring at the building, d’Artagnan could not tell if his expression conveyed hate or fear or perhaps a mixture of the two. 

The large doors were pulled open as they approached, it was clear they were expected. The two men holding the doors waited until the four soldiers had entered the courtyard before pushing the doors closed again. The courtyard was empty save for a covered cart and horses and a low gallows. As they brought their horses to a stop and dismounted d’Artagnan looked at Aramis who had not moved from the back of his mare. He was staring at the gallows. 

Porthos approached the mounted man and rested his hand on Aramis’ thigh. Aramis blinked a few times before looking down at his friend. 

Porthos spoke quietly to Aramis who shook his head before dismounting. Porthos had his hand on Aramis’ back as he got down from the horse. D’Artagnan could only guess that Porthos had reminded his friend that he did not have to go into the building and Aramis had no doubt reiterated that he was determined not to let the memories get the better of him. 

Athos had moved towards the entrance of the prison, Porthos followed after giving Aramis an encouraging squeeze of the arm. D’Artagnan fell into step with Aramis who was walking with exaggerated purpose, but he could see the shake in his step. 

‘I’ll be fine,’ he said quietly as they stepped into the building. 

D’Artagnan was not so sure, but did not want to mollycoddle his lover, he knew Aramis would just want to be allowed to deal with the issues he had in his own time. Despite the contact between them being a little stilted still d’Artagnan really just wanted to gather his nervous lover into his arms and tell him that he was safe. But that would not do in the very place that Aramis had been held and forced to lie under barbaric treatment for days.

D’Artagnan had not seen Aramis whilst he was in the Chatelet, he had only seen the state of him once he was freed. Aramis had been so utterly beaten he had simply allowed his friends to tend to his injuries, barely reacting as his wounds were cleaned and stitched. The persecuted man had not relaxed until he had been told to sleep by them. 

Not wishing to dwell on the past, despite knowing that his lover would be unable not to, d’Artagnan looked ahead at the prison guard who was waiting for them. 

‘We’ve got ‘em in a room, the messenger said you wan’ed four. We only got two women that fit what you wan’. But I found four men for yer to pick from.’

The guard who wore grubby clothes was leading them along a corridor. The man had looked them up and down, his gaze not lingering on any of them before walking off telling them about the condemned prisoners he had picked for them to look at. D’Artagnan found the whole thing distasteful. He decided he would be glad when they could leave the horrible building and all it stood for. 

They were walking along a corridor with cells on both sides. D’Artagnan glanced to his left occasionally looking at Aramis. His lover was taking long breaths, it was obvious he was struggling to be back in the building again. Aramis was slowing down, until he eventually just stopped walking. 

D’Artagnan paused looking at his lover, unsure what to do. Aramis was simply staring ahead. He remained static for a few seconds before turning his gaze to d’Artagnan. 

‘Go on, with the others. I...I just need a minute. I...can’t...with the guards. I’ll catch you up. It’s alright.’

Aramis managed a small smile and waved his hand indicating for d’Artagnan to carry on. D’Artagnan held Aramis’ gaze for a few seconds, he could tell Aramis meant what he said. D’Artagnan nodded and turned away from his lover. He hated leaving him, but at the same time, knew it would just draw attention to Aramis’ suffering if he remained by his side. 

Without looking back d’Artagnan followed the others and rounded a corner leaving his lover alone with his thoughts. 

MMMM

Porthos glanced back at d’Artagnan as he caught them up, he raised an eyebrow. D’Artagnan leaned in so that only he would hear. 

‘He just needed a moment, I think he’s worried the guard will see he’s uncomfortable and say something. He’ll catch us up.’

Porthos nodded before returning his attention to the guard who was unlocking a barred door, beyond which several tattily dressed prisoners were waiting. D’Artagnan moved next to Athos, no doubt to repeat what had just been said to him.

The guard ushered them into the room, Porthos allowed his eyes to adjust to the slightly brighter light. 

Six prisoners, four men and two women were stood along the wall, all were manacled with chains keeping them attached to metal loops on the stone wall. Porthos looked them over. 

There were two older men, probably in their forties, one of them was bald, the other was scarred across the face. Porthos sighed, he knew straight away that neither man would be any use to them. The men were looking at the Musketeers warily.

The other two men were younger, they had similar dark, slightly curled hair, they were both in either their late twenties or early thirties. The older man was the right height and build to play the King in their farce of a plan. Porthos suspected the two men were brothers. 

The women, who were stood together were obviously from different social background. Porthos was not entirely shocked to realise he recognised the older woman. Marie was a prostitute of around forty years. She had managed to keep her looks reasonable over the years, but had a strong personality. He remembered that she had once assisted d’Artagnan when Aramis had been drugged. The woman had helped the Musketeers back to safety before getting a message to Treville on their behalf. 

Marie had her arm around the younger women who looked scared. She had a pretty face, marred by bruises. She was probably in her late twenties and once cleaned up would be able to pass as the Queen, sharing the same figure as the Monarch’s wife. 

Athos had stepped forward and was talking to the guard, he pointed at the two older men and shook his head. The two men understood that they were to be returned to their cells. The men did not fight the guards that were called in to take them away. Porthos could tell the prisoners picked had been the quietest amongst those condemned. Porthos hated watching the two men led away, their fate sealed. 

‘Leave us, we need to talk to the prisoners privately.’

Athos looked at the guard for a few seconds before the scruffy man mumbled something and wandered off, as he passed Porthos reached out his hand.

‘Keys,’ he said.

‘Don’t go lettin’ ‘em run off,’ said the guard before unhooking the key to the manacles from his belt and handing it over. 

Porthos watched the man go, before glancing at Athos who nodded. Porthos stepped towards the two young men holding the key out. 

‘If we show you a courtesy, are you going to behave?’

The two men nodded and stood calmly as Porthos undid the manacles around their wrists. D’Artagnan had his gun drawn but was not aiming it at any of the prisoners, the threat enough to keep them in check. 

As Porthos stopped in front of Marie he sighed.

‘What did you do, Marie?’ he asked.

‘Took more than I was owed,’ she replied with a smile, ‘took more than I was owed, one to many times.’

The younger woman was not making eye contact with him, she was shaking. Marie put her arm around her again.

‘It’s alright, love,’ she said, ‘these men ain’t gonna hurt you. They keep an eye on me and me kind, they’re good men.’

The young woman managed to look up at Porthos, but the fear remained in her eyes. Porthos smiled at her as he undid the manacles, holding her wrists gently as he did so.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Anne,’ she replied in a small voice.

Porthos could not help a laugh. Anne looked confused. 

‘You’ll understand in a minute,’ he said, before stepping back. 

D’Artagnan was keeping watch by the door, making sure the guard had indeed retreated, and no doubt watching out for Aramis. Porthos moved to stand so that he could watch all four of the prisoners as Athos stepped forward. 

As Athos explained to the captives what they were going to be doing Porthos watched the reactions. 

The two men were initially confused but gradually understood what was expected of them and the likely outcome. Marie smiled and shook her head, Porthos guessed she could see a dark humour in what was being asked of them. 

Anne went from listening intently to taking a small gasp and covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide. Porthos wondered what she was thinking. The young woman was being asked, told, Porthos reminded himself, that she would be impersonating the Queen on a military mission that was likely to prove fatal for some, if not all, of the prisoners. The young women had been condemned to die by hanging, not riddled with gunshot wounds. 

They were using the prisoners, the prisoners were not really going to gain from the experience, and there was a high chance they would be killed. 

‘Unfortunately, you are not being given a choice in this matter,’ said Athos in conclusion, ‘but we will treat you well.’

The two young men looked at each other before the older one spoke.

‘Please monsieur, we have had difficult lives, and we know that what we did was wrong, and if doing this means my brother will not be executed, I will do what you ask of us.’

The younger man glanced at his brother before nodding his agreement. 

‘What did you do?’ asked Athos.

The two men, who looked capable, could have been soldiers if their lives had taken different paths. Instead the men, who could have been comrades to the Musketeers were facing their demises, well before their time. 

The younger brother replied, ‘we lost our jobs at the docks, then we were evicted. Henri stole some bread, he was caught-’

‘I begged Jean to run, but he wouldn’t so they got him as well. He hasn’t even done anything wrong…’

Henri bowed his head, Jean stepped up to him and embraced the older man, who held onto his brother. 

Porthos saw Athos sigh and shake his head, they had seen the same story many times. The poor of the city were often punished for merely trying to stay alive. 

‘And you?’ Athos turned to the younger woman.

Marie shook her head, ‘she won’t talk out loud about what ‘appened to her,’ she said. 

Athos glanced across to Porthos who nodded and approached the women again.

‘We don’t want to pry, Anne, but it might help us if we have an idea?’

The young woman looked at him, tears in her eyes.

‘My husband...he used to hit me and make me…’ Anne paused, sniffing, ‘make me…’

Porthos could tell she was not going to be able to say the words, but he could guess the kind of abuse the husband dealt on his timid wife. 

‘I let him do what a husband expects to do,’ she managed to say in the end, ‘but when he started to pay attention to our daughter...I couldn’t let him touch her...I stabbed him.’

Her words had become no more than a whisper. Porthos had to admit to being impressed that the quiet, cowed, woman was capable of murdering a man by stabbing them.

‘He didn’t die straight away, he told them I did it...I didn’t even get to see my daughter before they took me away...she’s with my mother.’

Porthos wanted to embrace the woman but knew that would not be a good idea, he would probably scare her. Marie was still keeping a firm hold of her. 

‘You will be transported - as prisoners - in a secured cart to a location on the outskirts of Paris,’ said Athos, ‘we will brief you more fully about what is expected of you.’

Athos paused.

‘I am not sure if what you are being...asked...to do is really any better than the sentence you have all been given.’

Marie glanced at the other prisoners before replying, ‘look at us, Monsieur, we have nothing, we are condemned...just to see the sky again will be reward enough.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marie appeared in 'The Old Flame', Aramis spent time in the Chatelet in 'Breaking Point'.


	3. Luc

Aramis allowed the others to get ahead of him, d’Artagnan glanced back at him and slowed. Aramis shook his head and waved his lover away. He wanted to be alone for a few seconds. He could not face the others as he worked through the horrific memories just being in the Chatelet was bringing to the forefront of his mind. D’Artagnan paused for a moment before nodding his understanding and continuing to walk away, disappearing around a corner.

Aramis listened to their receding footsteps. As the footsteps faded the other sounds of the prison returned. The moans of pain, confused mumblings of men driven mad by their captivity, the scuttle of rats along a wall, the drip of a leaking roof…

He closed his eyes for a few seconds and took several deep breaths, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He should not have come, they had told him not to come, but he did not want to show them that he was weak. Still too weak to enter the prison.

They would have understood, he knew that. D’Artagnan would have understood. None of them would have thought any less of him if he had not partaken in this part of the mission.

‘Monsieur?’

The voice of an old man cut through his thoughts. Aramis opened his eyes and looked towards the man who had spoken.

The cell to his right housed several men. The men were all wearing ragged, torn, clothes, they had been there for some time. The men were all covered in dirt and grime, their beards unkempt, their bodies marked with the abuse they would have received on a daily basis. Aramis remembered well watching how appallingly the other inmates were treated.

The man who had spoken to him was sat by the bars, his arms around another man who was leaning into him. Aramis could not see the other man’s face, but he could tell the second man had not been in the cell for long, he was cleaner than the others, although he did have some fresh bruising and grazing on his wrists where he had probably been restrained.

‘I remember you,’ said the first man.

Aramis looked at the man, he was old, although time spent in the Chatelet could well have prematurely aged the man. He was covered with scars. A threadbare blanket was covering his legs. The old man had pulled the blanket over the man next to him in a futile gesture of offered warmth.

‘You remember me?’

The man nodded, ‘you were here some months ago, forgive me but the time passes slowly here, I can’t remember exactly. You were interrogated. When they came and took you away I wondered if you would survive...I am pleased that you did.’

The man paused, he looked at the pauldron on Aramis’ shoulder.

‘I didn’t know you were a soldier. What they did to you...is wrong. No man should endure that treatment. I know what you were accused of Monsieur.’

Aramis looked away for a few seconds, but did not move from where he stood, something about the way the man spoke, told him there was more to come.

‘Luc here has been accused of the same crime.’

Aramis turned towards the cell and looked at the man being held by the old man. Aramis realised the man was not even a man, Luc was a boy. The boy looked up at Aramis, terror the only thing in his eyes. Dark bruises on his face told Aramis the boy had already had his first session with the interrogator. Already been asked the questions. The questions that Aramis managed to avoid answering at great cost.

He crouched down by the bars of the cell. Under normal circumstance getting so close to the imprisoned men would have been dangerous, more than one unsuspecting visitor had been grabbed and held by the inmates. But none of the men in the cell reacted, a quick glance at them reassured Aramis that they were defeated men, they knew they would not see freedom again.

Luc continued to look at him, tears spilling from his scared eyes. He clung to the older man who held him tighter.

‘How old are you?’ asked Aramis, trying to keep the emotion from his voice.

‘Fifteen.’

The boy spoke quietly, the word not much more than a whisper.

The older man stroked the boy's hair, ‘he was found with a man who ran, I think he was selling himself.’

Aramis sighed, realising the boy must have been desperate to reach such a low. Aramis also realised the boy would not be able to answer the questions that would be put to him, he might confess to sleeping with other men, but he would not be able to name them. His interrogators would persecute him for days before…

He looked away again, not wishing to give in to the tears that threatened to fall on his own face. He wiped his eyes with a gloved hand before rising to stand. He looked around. A Chatelet guard stood at the end of the corridor.

‘You,’ said Aramis, showing a confidence he knew he did not have at that moment. ‘This one.’

He pointed at Luc.

‘He will be coming with us.’

The guard shook his head, ‘that weren’t part of the deal. You’re only allowed to pick from the condemned. He ain’t been condemned...yet.’

Aramis shook his head, ‘I don’t care, we need him.’

The guard muttered something and wandered off. Aramis looked back at the boy and the older man.

‘I might be able to get you out as well, monsieur.’

The old man shook his head, ‘I’m not long for this world. I’d be no use to you. Save this boy.’

The man pulled the blanket that was covering his legs back a little. Aramis struggled not to react to the smell, as the gangrenous sores were revealed. The man would be dead in a matter of days.

Luc was staring at Aramis, fear still in his eyes. Aramis was about to speak again when he heard the others returning.

Athos was leading the group, he looked annoyed as he walked up to Aramis who had risen to stand.

‘We do not need anyone else. We found what we would need, they are being put into the cart now…’

Athos trailed off as he saw the boy looking up at him. He returned his gaze to Aramis. Aramis just looked at Athos, knowing he could not verbalise his reason for wanting to save the boy. Athos looked back at him, a slight change in his expression told Aramis that his friend understood. The Chatelet guard was stood just behind Athos.

‘See, I told you, he ain’t to be taken…’

Athos nodded to Aramis before turning to the guard.

‘He is coming with us.’

The guard shook his head, ‘I ain’t got permission to let that one go, we ain’t finished with ‘im.’

Porthos had watched the exchange with a scowl. He stepped up to the guard who was a good few inches shorter than the Musketeer. Porthos puffed out his chest and made himself as intimidating as he could.

‘We need that lad,’ he said.

The guard looked up at Porthos for a few seconds, Aramis could see the man weighing up his options.

D’Artagnan could see the conflict in the guard’s mind and stepped up, ‘say he died, he’s scrawny, he won’t last in here anyway.’

Faced with four armed Musketeers who all towered over him, the guard relented. He stepped forward pulling the keys from his belt as he did so. Aramis stepped back from the barred door as it was pulled open.

The boy did not look sure. Aramis stepped into the cell, none of the other prisoners moved against him. Aramis guessed the older man was their de facto leader. The man looked at Luc.

‘Go with him,’ he said quietly, ‘he is a good man. He understands what you are and will help you.’

Aramis managed an encouraging smile, ‘Luc, let me help you.’

He held out his arm, the boy reached out a shaking hand and allowed Aramis to pull him to his feet. He wavered, Aramis slipped his arm around the boy's waist and helped him out of the cell.

The older man watched with a smile, ‘you must live for us all, Luc. You must escape this hell, for us all.’

MMMM

Athos watched as Aramis escorted the boy along the corridor, the Musketeer kept the boy close to him. Athos got the impression Aramis would have attacked anyone who tried to take the boy away. Although he did not know what the boy had done to earn his place in the prison it was obvious that Aramis had a good reason for wanting the boy to see his freedom. 

Porthos and d’Artagnan walked behind Aramis and the boy acting as a rear guard. Athos led them out of the door, into the daylight. He watched the boy blinking and reaching up to shield his eyes from the sunlight. The reaction told Athos the boy had been incarcerated long enough for his eyes to have become sensitive to the bright light. 

Aramis spoke quietly to the boy before helping him up into the secure cart with the other prisoners. Marie, who had already firmly established herself as the matriarch of the group reached out to help him in. He turned back and looked at Aramis, the fear still in his eyes. Aramis smiled at the boy before talking to him again. Athos wondered what words of encouragement his friend was giving. 

Porthos closed the door at the back of the cart before climbing up at the front to drive the two horses. D’Artagnan had already mounted up, taking the reins to Porthos’ horse, ready for the journey across the city.

Aramis turned to Athos.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘Why did you need to save that child?’ asked Athos. 

Aramis looked down for a few seconds before responding.

‘He was caught selling himself...I couldn’t...Athos, he’s fifteen. He wouldn’t have lasted with the interrogators.’

Athos nodded, he had suspected Aramis had a personal investment in saving the boy. Athos suspected Aramis would have liked to free all the prisoners who were to face the interrogators, regardless of what they were accused of. 

‘You are responsible for him. We will find him a part to play in this ridiculous mission.’

Aramis managed a smile and nodded, ‘thank you,’ he said again.

They mounted up. Athos watched Aramis take a long look at the prison before urging his horse on, following Porthos and the cart with the prisoners. 

Perhaps freeing the boy who had been accused of the same crime that Aramis had been was a cathartic ending of that chapter of his friend's life. Athos knew that Aramis would never fully recover from the sordid affair, the man was still scarred physically, if not mentally. If saving the boys life helped him, Athos decided he would not prevent the boy’s release.

The journey across the city was uneventful, they kept to the main roads and were lucky to avoid any mishaps. Athos took the time to go over the plan in his mind. He knew it would be difficult not to try to defend the prisoners, but they were soldiers under orders and they would follow the orders. Although Athos suspected they would bend the orders. Treville had intimated that they should and the Captain's orders were always the ones the Musketeers would follow closest. 

Porthos turned the cart into the enclosed courtyard of the large house they were to use to prepare for the mission. Treville had already ensured the house had been stocked with what they would need. Athos dismounted as he entered the yard, he pulled the gate closed, ensuring it was firmly locked before turning back. 

D’Artagnan was heading for the house as Porthos opened the door on the cart. Together he and Aramis helped the prisoners down to the ground. Athos watched as the boy Aramis had saved remained close to the Musketeers side, gazing around, unsure of himself.

Henri was staring at the house, his brother was looking at the locked gate. Athos smiled.

‘That is as much to keep you in, as to keep others out,’ he said. ‘What we are doing is a secret mission. You, Henri, are about to play the most important person in France.’

‘Should I be honoured?’ asked Henri.

Athos lay his hand on the prisoner's shoulder, ‘some would expect you to be honoured to be given the chance to protect your Monarch’s life...but I would not expect it.’

Henri looked across at his brother, ‘I am grateful though,’ he said.

Athos wondered if the two men had really thought about what their lives would be like if they survived. They may not be hanged but life in the squalor of the prison was probably not much of a better option. Athos wished he could tell them that he had no intention of sending them back. Although with no prospects and no money, the freedom they might gain would be no better than the lives they had before they were arrested.

‘We can offer you a good meal,’ said Porthos. ‘D’Artagnan can cook up a fine stew when he puts his mind to it.’

Porthos winked at the two women. Marie chuckled as Anne looked away with a shy smile. 

‘At least you ain’t expecting us to do the cooking,’ said Marie as she guided the younger women towards the house.

Aramis was removing the tack from the horses. He was talking to the boy who had not left his side. Athos watched as the boy slowly started to copy the Musketeers actions. His youth showed as he picked up the actions quickly. Athos wondered what had happened to the boy to leave him in such a desperate situation as to be selling his body in order to survive. 

Athos left Aramis and his young friend to deal with the horses and headed into the house. He had never been in the house before but knew of its existence. Treville kept it in perpetual readiness for any nobles that needed to be kept hidden away or under arrest but could not be incarcerated in the Chatelet. 

The house had numerous bedrooms, a large kitchen, and several reception rooms and was maintained by two very discreet and, Athos suspected, well paid older women who knew when to make themselves scarce. 

The young woman was looking around at the decor, ornately framed portraits of unknown aristocrats hung in the hallway. An expensive looking sideboard stretched along one wall. 

‘There are not quite enough bedroom, I’m sure you won’t mind sharing,’ said Porthos, ‘but we will have to lock you in.’

Athos saw the annoyance on his friends face at the words. None of them liked the mission. The prisoners, however, did not seem as bothered. 

‘Monsieur,’ said Marie, ‘we are going to sleep in real beds. I ain’t never slept in a real bed.’

Porthos led the two women away, Athos saw him glancing at Anne a few times, the timid woman was shyly looking back when Porthos was not looking. 

‘Monsieur Athos,’ said Jean hesitantly.

Athos looked at the younger of the brothers who was gradually becoming more sure of himself as the day wore on. 

‘We wondered if we might be able to fight when the carriage is attacked? You said that you had to allow the attack to happen so that you could catch the men, but you don’t know how many men there will be. You are only four soldiers...fine soldiers we know, but if we could help...if that’s allowed?’

Athos nodded his approval.

‘Jean,’ he said, ‘I disapprove of this plan wholeheartedly. Neither of you has shown anything but respect for us so far, I think that I will trust you, we will find something that you can do to help us.’

D’Artagnan, who had been listening to the exchange as he looked at one of the portraits turned to Athos.

‘Perhaps they could keep our gun’s loaded? I know that would mean giving them a weapon, but they know that if they turned the guns on us there are more of us than them.’

Henri laughed at the remark, ‘and you are going to be better shots than either of us. We’ve never handled a gun before.’

Athos contemplated the suggestion for a few seconds. He had no idea what they were going to face when the carriage was attacked. He doubted it would be more men than the four of them could handle, but having a supply of guns that could be reloaded would probably help. 

‘We will teach you to reload the guns, and then work out a plan. Aramis is our best shot, and Porthos our tactician, you’re lives are at stake, we will work together.’

The brothers both smiled. Athos could tell the trust they were being given was a boon. As with many of the prisoners they had been dealt an unfair hand in life and had suffered the consequences. Being given the chance to look after themselves was welcome.

‘Come on,’ said d’Artagnan, as he began to walk away, ‘there’s a room at the back where the weapons have been stored.’


	4. Anne

Porthos found the two rooms that had been set aside for the women, he was amazed at the forethought Treville had for the mission. It was obvious their Captain intended for the volunteered prisoners to be well compensated in the short time that they were free. The women who looked after the house had left the two rooms ready to receive guests who might want to bathe and change into fine clothes. 

Marie had squeezed Porthos’ hand as he left her telling him he was lovely before giving him a kiss on the cheek. He had told her not to try climbing out of the locked window to escape. Marie had playfully slapped his arm in reply.

The younger women, Anne, had watched the exchange as she waited to be shown her room.

‘She is very strong-willed,’ Anne said quietly after Porthos had locked the door to Marie’s bedroom. 

Porthos nodded with a smile, ‘her kind have to be. They are some of the strongest women I know.’

They walked a few yards further along the corridor of bedrooms. Porthos stopped at the door and allowed Anne to walk past him into the bedroom. She stopped just inside the room. 

‘Am I really to sleep in here?’

She looked back at Porthos who nodded. As she looked around the room she spotted the clothes that had been laid out for her. Porthos recognised the dress as one the Queen had worn the previous year. 

Anne reached out towards the garment before noticing the grime on her hands. She pulled her hands towards herself.

‘There’s water,’ said Porthos. ‘If you’d like I could get some heated so that you could take a bath?’

Anne looked at the bath that sat in one corner of the room. Porthos could see she was blushing. 

‘I wouldn’t need to stay in the room whilst you bathed,’ he said.

The young women looked at him for a few seconds before replying. 

‘When I was arrested they were rough with me. When I was put in the prison they made comments about how they would like to...to...use me.’

She paused, tears in her eyes.

‘You are the first man who has shown any kindness to me since I was married.’

Porthos stepped forward and enveloped the women in his arms, she slipped her hands around his waist and held onto him for several seconds. He could feel her sobbing breaths as she tried to calm herself. After a couple of minutes, she stepped back and looked at the bath again. 

‘Perhaps I could have a bath. If I am to play the Queen I should try to look the part…’

Porthos smiled at her for a few seconds.

‘If you can get the fire going I will get you some water.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied but did not move.

‘What?’

‘I wonder if you might be able to give my daughter a message for me? I know I’ll never see her again...but I want her to know that I still love her and I did what I did for her.’

Porthos nodded with a sad smile, ‘I will make sure to see her myself,’ he said. 

MMMM

After stabling the horses and seeing that they were all fed and watered Aramis took Luc into the house. The young man had remained silent, copying his actions with the horses and taking instruction occasionally. 

Luc followed Aramis up the stairs towards the bedroom. Aramis knew that there would not be a room set aside for Luc so took him to the room that d’Artagnan had put their saddlebags in. 

‘We’ll have to find you somewhere to sleep, but you can get changed in here. I know there will be a fresh set of clothes here. Our Captain keeps this please ready for pretty much any eventuality.’

Aramis had taken to continually talking when he realised Luc was not going to respond to him. He had talked Luc through all that they did with the horses and why. He had talked about the house and about their mission. Luc had nodded occasionally but otherwise not reacted. 

The room he and d’Artagnan were to sleep in was big, a large four poster bed dominated the room but a small couch and two large wardrobes vied for attention along the wall opposite the bed. 

Aramis opened the first wardrobe and found several dresses, he glanced back at Luc.

‘Probably the other wardrobe,’ he said with a wink.

The second wardrobe’s contents proved more useful. Aramis found a pair of breeches and a shirt that looked small enough for the slight man and underclothes, stocking and a pair of shoes that would fit him as well. 

‘Here,’ said Aramis as he lay the clothing on the bed and put the shoes on the floor. ‘There’s water in the jug so you can wash, I’m sure you’d like to get some of that filth off you...I know I did.’

Luc nodded. He looked at the water jug for a few seconds before he slowly stripped off. Aramis wandered over to the window and looked out at the yard. He watched d'Artagnan and Athos teaching Henri and Jean to load guns for a few minutes, thinking it would be a good idea to have them keeping weapons ready when the melee started. 

After a couple of minutes, he heard Luc pouring the water into the washbowl and the sounds of the young man washing. 

A creak of a floorboard behind him made him turn. Luc had moved to stand in front of him. He had not redressed. Aramis did not understand what the young man wanted until he stepped forward and reached for Aramis’ breeches, undoing the first button before Aramis could react. 

‘No, Luc,’ he said taking the young man’s hands away. ‘You don’t have to do that. That’s not why I got you out of there...you didn’t think that’s what I wanted, did you?’

Aramis thought back to all that he had said and done since liberating the young man, he could not think of anything he had done to give Luc the impression that he wanted to use him for sex. 

Luc was staring at the floor, his face flushed. Aramis lifted the young man’s chin with his finger.

‘Get dressed,’ he said firmly.

Luc nodded and walked across to the bed and began to dress in the clean clothes. Aramis sat on the couch and watched him, taking in the bruises across the young man’s hips and back. The obvious grip marks on his upper arms where he had no doubt been pulled about by the men who had paid him for sex. 

‘How long were you selling yourself for?’

Luc turned slowly as he tucked in his shirt. 

‘Two years, I think,’ he replied.

Aramis shook his head, ‘how did you end up on the streets?’

‘My mother died, I ran away. A man helped me, but his help was to give me to other men. Then I was caught…’

Aramis nodded to the space next to him on the couch. Luc sat down very stiffly, he was not relaxed. 

‘When I go back to the prison...will I be beaten again?’

Aramis closed his eyes for a few seconds and looked away, trying not to let his own memories get the better of him. When he looked back at Luc he found the young man watching him.

‘Don’t tell the others,’ said Aramis quietly, ‘but I will make sure you don’t go back there. I won’t allow it.’

‘Are you going to keep me for yourself?’

Again Aramis wondered if he had somehow given the young man the wrong impression when he rescued him. 

‘No Luc, I will not be keeping you. You will be free. And you will not have to sell yourself anymore, I’ll see to that.’

‘Why were you so upset, in the prison?’

Aramis took a breath before replying. 

‘I...er...I was arrested, a year ago, for the same thing that you were arrested for. I was there for nine days-’

‘Did they beat you? They said I was going to be lashed the next time they took me from the cell. They said all I had to do was tell them who I had slept with...but I couldn’t, I didn’t know who any of them were.’

Luc paused looking at Aramis for a few seconds before speaking again.

‘Had you been selling yourself?’

Aramis smiled, ‘no,’ he said with a shake of his head, ‘I had been accused of willingly sleeping with other men. Which is illegal. And they wanted to know who I was sleeping with.’

Luc looked away for a few seconds. Aramis wondered what he was thinking.

‘There were a couple of times I was with men who weren’t rough. They were slower, and they touched me, it made me feel good.’

Luc’s face was flushed again.

‘I think I can understand why you would want to sleep with someone. I think it might be enjoyable.’

Aramis nodded, ‘yes Luc, it should be enjoyable. It should be amazing. It shouldn’t be rough or forceful.’

‘I’m sorry I thought that you wanted to have sex with me.’

‘I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that’s what I wanted, because it is not. All I wanted was to get you out of that horrible place. I didn’t want to think of you going through what I did.’

Aramis had to look away again as the memories threatened him again. He took a couple of steadying breaths before realising that Luc had rested a hand on his and had gently squeezed it.

They smiled at each other, finally understanding. 

MMMM

As they gathered in one of the receptions rooms d’Artagnan was pleased to see the now cleaned up prisoners looking more like normal members of society. The two women had dressed in simple clothes, leaving the fine dresses for the mission the following day. Anne had sat on a couch next to Marie, the two women were talking quietly to one another. Anne had glanced at Porthos a few times, d’Artagnan wondered what they were saying to one another. 

The brothers, Henri and Jean had sat on cushioned chairs either side of a small table. They were talking through what they had learned earlier when they had been shown the workings of a gun. Both men had quickly become competent in loading the weapons. D’Artagnan was confident they would be helpful on the mission. The men were obviously grateful to have the trust of the Musketeers. 

D’Artagnan turned his attention to his lover, who was leaning on a window sill looking at a book he had taken from a shelf beside him. Luc was next to him, also leaning on the sill, his wide-eyed expression had remained, he was looking around the well-appointed room still showing disbelief. 

Luc had not left Aramis’ side since they had arrived at the house. D’Artagnan could not help wondering if Aramis was going to get too invested in the young man’s welfare. The mission was a welcome distraction from their issues, but now d’Artagnan worried that Luc would distract Aramis too much. 

Aramis had told d’Artagnan that he was happy to wait for him to recover from their captivity. Was Aramis actually not happy to wait and needed the distraction? Or was Luc a way for Aramis to deal with the demons of the Chatelet that they all knew he still harboured? Whatever the reason, d’Artagnan was not sure he liked the idea of his lover getting attached to the young man. If Luc was killed, which was likely, Aramis would be devastated afresh.

D’Artagnan wondered if they had all already shown too much kindness and friendliness to the prisoners. As horrible as the thought was, the men and women were just resources for the mission. 

Athos, who had made a brief trip back to the garrison, entered the room. 

‘Now that we are away from the prison and any chance of being overheard I wanted to reiterate what we are expecting of you,’ he said. ‘You are all condemned to hang. What our views are on what you did to deserve that are unimportant, although I think you know that none of us approves.’

‘We know,’ said Marie with a smile, ‘the way you have treated us since taking us from the prison makes that obvious.’

The others nodded their agreement. 

Athos smiled, ‘thank you. Your sentences have been commuted to living out your lives in the prison…’

Athos paused for a few seconds. Everyone in the room knew that the new punishments were not much better than being hanged. 

‘But that will only be the case if you survive the mission, which you may not.’

D’Artagnan watched Marie pull Anne a little closer to her. Henri reached out and lay his hand over his brother's wrist. They knew they were not worth much as people. D’Artagnan hated it, he saw his thoughts reflected in the faces of his friends around the room.

‘I want to assure you,’ continued Athos, ‘that you will not be left to suffer. If you are mortally wounded we will see you on your way.’

They all understood Athos’ euphemism. D’Artagnan noticed that Jean had gone quite pale as Athos had spoken, the reality of their near future dawning on the man as he listened. 

‘We have been instructed to try to capture some of the men who will be attacking the Royal carriage, we have been told that you are...expendable. I am sorry,’ said Athos with a sigh, ‘but we cannot protect you. That is not part of the mission.’

D’Artagnan could tell that Athos disliked having to reiterate the appalling mission to the prisoners. 

Henri stood up, ‘Monsieur Athos,’ he said, ‘we understand. We know if you had not been given this...mission. We would have hanged tomorrow morning. Jean and I had made peace with it, but now, you have given us the chance to live. And alive, we have a chance, a small chance we know, of regaining our freedom. I’m sure I speak for the others when I say we trust you all, and we will do as you ask.’

The other prisoners nodded their agreement. 

‘Luc,’ said Athos, turning to the young man who tensed up straight away. ‘I spoke to my Captain about you.’

D’Artagnan saw worry cross Aramis’ face, was Athos about to insist the Luc be sent back to the Chatelet? Aramis would probably resist the idea. D’Artagnan took a small step forward wondering whose side he would take. He did not want to see the persecuted youngster sent back to the interrogators but he also did not want to see Aramis in trouble for defending him.

‘We agreed that you could play the part of a groom. You are, perhaps a little young, but you are tall enough to fit the uniform. If you agree to do as you are told, as the others have, you will be afforded the same courtesies we have given them?’

Luc nodded slowly as he visibly wilted. The worry of what Athos was going to say had affected the young man deeply. Aramis rested his hand on the young man’s shoulder reassuringly. 

‘Good,’ continued Athos with a glance at Aramis, ‘I have a uniform for you. I suggest you all get a good night's sleep. If there is anything you want or need we will endeavour to help you, but you must remember that you are still prisoners.’

‘I think sleepin’ in one of them big soft beds will be reward enough,’ said Marie.

Jean, who had been looking quite contemplative looked up, ‘you have shown us a respect that I don’t think any of us ever expected to experience. You’ve treated us better than anyone has in years.’

‘It’s the least you deserve for what you’re being made to do,’ said Porthos. ‘And none of you have given us cause to worry that you’re going to cause us problems. We’re grateful for that. The last thing we want to do is ‘ave to keep you in chains.’

D’Artagnan agreed with his friend. The prisoners had all conducted themselves with good grace when they must have been scared. He hated to imagine what had been going through their minds when they had been pulled from their cells earlier in the day and effectively put on show for the Musketeers. 

D’Artagnan would be glad when the mission was over. Even if it did mean he would have to go back to his own issues. He glanced at Aramis who was looking at him from across the room, his lover’s expression was one of worry. D’Artagnan guessed his own reflected it. Perhaps Aramis was thinking about their problems as well? 

Luc turned to Aramis and said something. Aramis glanced at d’Artagnan again before nodding to the young man who seemed relieved. D’Artagnan wondered what they had said, more so when he noticed that Aramis looked a little relieved as well.


	5. Gilded Freedom

Luc had watched Aramis talking to d’Artagnan. He had told Aramis that he did not want to spend the night locked in a room alone. He had not been alone since he was arrested. The old man at the Chatelet had been a constant companion. Luc hated to admit to being scared of being alone. 

When he had been caught he had been terrified. The man he was with had hit him when they heard the Red Guard coming. Luc had stumbled to the floor disorientated, the next thing he had known he was being dragged away by two Guardsmen. They were shouting at him, telling him he was disgusting, telling him he would be lucky if he got a quick death. 

When the old man at the Chatelet had started talking to the Musketeer who had stopped outside their cell, Luc had wondered what the man wanted of the soldier. When the old man had told the Musketeer that he remembered him being incarcerated in the prison Luc had been shocked. The old man had indicated that the Musketeer was similar to Luc. Luc had not understood the comment at the time. 

When he had been alone with Aramis he was sure it was so that he could see to the soldier's needs. Luc was surprised at how shocked Aramis had been and the heartfelt apology from the man was equally surprising. But to see the man fighting to contain the memories of his own time in the Chatelet had convinced Luc that Aramis was a good man. Aramis had seen what happened in the prison, he had experienced it, he knew how scared Luc had been.

D’Artagnan had glanced across to him as Aramis spoke, he nodded and smiled. Luc managed a quick smile back before looking at the floor shyly. 

He watched the two brothers and Marie led away by Athos, a man Luc still felt a little wary of, and Porthos walked away with Anne. The prisoners were all to be locked in their rooms for the night. 

D’Artagnan paused as he walked towards the door. 

‘I’m going to find you some bedding. That couch in our room is big enough for you, don’t you think?’

Luc nodded, ‘thank you,’ he said.

‘I told you he wouldn’t mind. Why would he mind?’ said Aramis.

‘Because you two are together,’ said Luc.

Aramis looked stunned, he opened his mouth to speak but did not seem able to find the words.

‘I can tell by the way he looks at you and you at him...I won’t say anything.’

Aramis looked away for a few seconds, ‘I think we need to work on our discretion,’ he muttered. 

Luc managed a smile before a thought struck him.

‘When you were in there. In the prison. When they asked you the question. You had to keep quiet or you might have named him.’

Aramis expression darkened. Luc wondered if he should not say anything else but he wanted to finish.

‘That was very brave,’ he said. ‘They might have stopped hurting you if you had given him up.’

‘It’s not something I like to think about,’ said Aramis after a few seconds, ‘I could have made it easier for myself, although they would have had no reason not to execute me as well if I had given him up. I was keeping myself alive by not confessing.’

‘I still think it was brave.’

Aramis did not respond, he led them back to their room. Luc followed him. 

He thought about the times he had followed men upstairs knowing what was going to happen to him when they reached the bedroom. If he was lucky to be taken to a bedroom. He had lost count of the number of men who had paid him so that they could use him. Handsome men, ugly men, fat men, rich men. If he had not been caught, he wondered how much longer he would have survived. 

When the mission was over, he wondered what was really in store for him back at the prison. He found it hard to believe that they would not continue their interrogation. Aramis had told him he would make sure that he did not return to the prison, but how could the soldier ensure that? And even if the interrogation did not happen, the old man would not have been able to protect him for much longer. He knew he would have ended up in a different cell eventually, one where there would be men prepared to sate their urges on him. To use him for their needs, and he was too weak to fight them. 

Luc wondered if it would be better to be killed on the mission? His life was worthless anyway.

Aramis led them into the bedroom, d’Artagnan had put a couple of blankets on the couch before wandering to the other side of the big bed and starting to strip off. Aramis nodded towards the couch before closing the bedroom door.

Luc arranged the blankets to his liking before stripping down to his underclothes. He surreptitiously watched the two men undressing. D’Artagnan seemed to be watching Aramis as he stripped off. Luc got the impression there was something between them that was unsaid, some issue that they were dealing with. 

Aramis seemed to be lost in thought as he pulled his clothes off and hung them over a chair by the bed. When he pulled his shirt over his head Luc struggled not to react. The Musketeers back was covered in scars. Luc felt sick when he realised they were lash marks. He remembered the interrogator telling him he would be lashed to make him talk. Aramis must have been lashed when he was held in the Chatelet. He had thought the man brave before, but now, knowing what he had endured, Luc was in awe. 

He wondered if d’Artagnan thought that his lover was brave as well. Luc guessed the younger Musketeer would have felt bad that his lover had been so horribly treated and remained quiet to protect him. 

Luc knew that he would not have survived the interrogation. He doubted he would have survived long enough to be executed or assaulted by the guards or other prisoners. 

Luc knew he could not go back to the Chatelet. If he did not die the next day, he would have to run away.

MMMM

Jean looked at the locked door. The Musketeer, Athos, had locked them in with a sympathetic look. He had wished them a good night's sleep before he went. 

The whole day had been surreal. They had been sitting huddled together in the cell, lost in thought, knowing it was their last full day alive. Knowing that the hangman’s noose awaited them the next morning. Henri had put his arm around him, Jean had not protested at the treatment. He knew his brother had blamed himself for them both being condemned. If allowing his older brother to try to comfort him brought the man a little peace Jean was prepared to let it pass. 

A few years before he would never have dreamed of letting Henri embrace him. They had always been boisterously fighting, trying to get the upper hand on each other. But then it had all gone wrong. Their parents had died penniless, they had lost their jobs and their home and been forced out onto the streets. Despite being in their twenties they had no skills and no prospects. They had nothing. 

Now they were being forced to help the soldiers who had taken them from the prison. They were no longer going to be executed but a life in prison did not seem much better. Henri saw a glimmer of hope; Jean did not. 

But he loved his brother and would not leave him.

Henri was already peeling off the new clothes he had been given. The clothes they would wear the next day hung from the wardrobe. Henris were clothing the King had actually worn. Jean suspected the fine doublet he was to wear was also a cast off from a courtier. The plan was well thought out, even if it did mean using untrained people as cannon fodder. 

Jean stripped off and pulled the heavy sheets and blankets back off the bed, he climbed on. Henri had slipped under the sheets on the other side, he grinned. 

‘Make the most of it brother,’ he said. ‘We’re not going to see anything like this for a long time.’

Jean nodded with a smile of his own, hoping his brother would not notice it was fake, he did not want to spoil Henri’s optimism. 

MMMM

Marie looked out of the window in her room, she thought about the nights she had spent standing in the street. She thought about the men she had slept with. If she survived the next day, would Athos and the other Musketeers really send them back to the Chatelet? Somehow she doubted it. They were good men, who clearly disliked using them. Marie suspected they would be allowed to go free, if they survived. 

Would she go back to selling herself? She was reaching an age where it was starting to get difficult. More often than not she was overlooked by the men, who wanted youth over experience. She knew she could show them a good time, probably better than the new girls who were appearing on the streets. 

If they were released, Marie decided she would not return to Paris, she would try a different town. Perhaps she could get work in a factory? She was lucky to still be good with her hands, she could sew. Despite her age, she could still work. 

Marie decided she would keep her head down during the expected attack and live through the day. She was wily enough to be able to slip off in the chaos that was bound to surround them during or after the melee. They would not search for her, they would simply report back that she had been killed. 

But for now, Marie decided, she was going to enjoy the big soft bed. 

MMMM

Henri knew his brother had reservations about the whole affair. But if it meant that the younger man would not die by the noose it was worth it. Henri would never forgive himself for getting his brother condemned. As far as he was concerned his own life was forfeit, he was the one who had stolen the food. Jean had done nothing wrong. At least not that day, not that fateful day when they had run into the Red Guard as they tried to evade the stall holder. 

Jean had looked so pale when the judge had condemned them both. Henri had tried to plead for his brother's life but been struck by a guard for his trouble. When he had come around they were already incarcerated in the Chatelet awaiting their fate. Jean had been cradling him in his arms, glaring at the other men in the cell. Henri did not know what had happened to make Jean act quite so protectively towards him, he had quickly decided he did not want to. 

As the days had worn on Jean had become very withdrawn, he had told Henri he did not blame him and Henri believed him. They had barely spoken in the last couple of days. 

And now they were reprieved and there was hope again, not much, even Henri would admit that, but some. And some was better than none. 

As they settled in the big soft bed Henri wished for the night to last forever. The closest thing to freedom they would enjoy for some time. 

MMMM

Anne allowed Porthos to take her arm as they climbed the stairs. She and Marie had been talking quietly about each of the Musketeers. Marie knew them all. Anne had asked her what she thought of Porthos. Marie had glanced at the tall soldier who had been talking to d’Artagnan, she said that Porthos was a fine man who would go out of his way to help someone in need, that he understood and accepted people from all backgrounds. Marie had told her where Porthos had been brought up. Anne was surprised, she realised the Musketeer had done very well to make it to the well-respected position he now held. 

Anne had already concluded that the Musketeer was not the fierce battle-hardened soldier that he could have been. He had shown a kindness and gentleness towards her that she had not experienced from a man before.

If that night was to be her last night, Anne decided she wanted to do something she had never done before.

As they reached the door to her bedroom she turned to him.

‘Would you...check the window in my room,’ she said, ‘I’m not sure it’s locked.’

She knew it was a silly reason to get him into the room, but she had never tried anything similar in the past. Porthos gave her a knowing smile. She realised he had seen straight through her words.

‘I suppose I could check for you,’ he said as he pushed the door open. 

He caught her hand as he walked into the room, she followed him, her breaths speeding up. Somehow she felt the same as she had on her wedding night. A mixture of worry, excitement and joy. But this time she knew there was nothing that could go wrong. There would not be beatings and attacks, she would not be left in fear or trying to hide bruises. 

She knew this man would respect her.

Porthos crossed to the window and made a show of trying to open it.

‘Seems to be locked to me,’ he said before turning back to her. 

Anne bit her lip and smiled at him, she was not really sure what to do.

‘Could you...help me undo my dress?’

Porthos looked at her for a few seconds before responding. Anne guessed he was deciding if he wanted to stay with her or not. 

‘If you’re sure,’ said Porthos quietly.

Anne noticed a slight hesitancy in the soldier. She realised he might be worried that he was taking advantage of her, he was in a position of power over her. She wanted to allay his fears. She nodded before moving to the door and closing it.

‘I’m sure,’ she said.

Porthos stepped up to her and slid his arms around her pulling her closer to him, she did not resist. She reached up and cupped the back of his head pulling him down to her. The first few times she had kissed her husband she had not known what to do but she was confident she could kiss the Musketeer well. Porthos allowed her to dictate the pace, she found it empowering. She deepened their kiss, he lifted her slightly, she felt safe in his arms.

Anne broke off the kiss with a smile at him, he smiled back, the smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly. She saw him look, very briefly, at the bed. She giggled, actually giggled. 

‘My dress?’

She tilted her head slightly, she had never teased a man before, but Porthos seemed to be enjoying it. He moved his hands around to the front of her bodice tracing his fingers over the ties before slowly pulling them loose, not breaking eye contact with her the whole time.

Anne decided she had waited long enough and started to pull at his shirt, tugging it free from his breeches. Porthos had managed to untie and loosen her bodice before pausing to pull his shirt off over his head. 

Before returning to the task in hand the tall Musketeer leaned into her again and kissed her, she melted into his arms. When he scooped her up, as if she weighed no more than a feather, she smiled and continued to kiss him.

He lay her down on the bed, very gently, before stepping back to kick off his boots, she took the opportunity to pull the bodice off completely, the restrictive garment had been digging into her sides most of the evening. She was glad to be free of it. 

Porthos was smiling at her again, she smiled back. 

Anne decided she quite liked being the Musketeers prisoner.


	6. Regret

Athos had slept lightly, despite being in a good bed, he was on a mission and he needed to be alert. After rising early and spending some time preparing the weapons they would be taking with them he returned to the first floor of the house with the intention of unlocking the doors to the prisoner's rooms and sending them to breakfast. 

He had passed Aramis, who was on his way to check on the horses before preparing breakfast. Athos wondered, as he watched his friend disappear down the stairs, if the distraction of the mission and his rescue of young Luc, would help Aramis and d’Artagnan to move on from the horrific assault they had suffered. He decided he would talk to Aramis later.

He unlocked the door to Marie’s bedroom. He politely knocked on the door and waited for her to call out. He pushed the door open and found the older women sat at the dressing table brushing her hair. 

‘I may as well make the effort,’ she said with a laugh.

Athos appreciated her attitude, he was sure she was having a calming influence on the other prisoners. He had seen the younger of the two brothers looking to her as if she were a mother to him. 

‘Aramis is sorting out some breakfast. Can I trust you to make your own way there, or will I need to chain you up?’

Marie winked at him, ‘if you’re into that sort of thing, young man, I’m sure I could oblige…’

Athos shook his head and left the women to her morning ablutions. He trusted her not to try to escape. All the prisoners seemed to realise that whilst they were still in the city they were safer with the Musketeers, under their protection. 

The brothers had stayed in the next bedroom. They were both up and dressed. Henri looked a little uncomfortable in the King’s doublet and breeches, he was pulling at the sleeve.

‘I sometimes wonder how they wear all those layers all day,’ said Athos as he watched Henri trying to arrange the clothing to his liking. 

Jean looked a little scared, Athos could understand the worry the man would have. He was pleased that he had been able to be candid with the prisoners. They all knew that none of the Musketeers liked the plan. 

After directing the two men to the dining room Athos moved along to the room Anne had been given. 

He was surprised to find the key not in the lock. Perhaps Porthos had absentmindedly pocketed the key when he had taken her back the night before? He reached up and turned the handle, the door was not locked. 

Quietly he pushed the door open. He sighed when he saw the bed. 

Anne was asleep on the bed, a contented expression on her face, in the arms of her gaoler. Porthos had one arm lying over the sleeping women, holding her close to him. It was obvious the two had spent the night together.

Athos stared at Porthos as his friend opened his eyes. They looked at each other for a few seconds before Athos shook his head and backed out of the room. 

Porthos met him in the corridor, hastily pulling his breeches up and buttoning them.

‘Are you really that stupid?’

Porthos did not know where to look, the man’s guilty expression negating the need for words. 

‘Porthos,’ continued Athos, ‘as much as I hate this mission...we are using these people. They are resources. They are expendable. You have to remember that. Catching the assassins is more important than protecting them.’

Porthos looked away.

‘You cannot let your obvious feeling towards this women get in the way of the mission. You’re an idiot. This is the sort of behaviour I would expect from Aramis...perhaps not now, but a couple of years ago.’

Athos paused for a few seconds, shaking his head again.

‘Sort yourself out...this is not over.’

Athos walked away, he did not want to continue the conversation where they were. He was fuming, the mission depended on them not spending time protecting the prisoners.

Now Porthos had left him worried that the man would be distracted. There was already the worry that Aramis would be distracted by Luc. Should he have insisted that the boy remain a prisoner?

Athos hoped he had not made a mistake in showing the prisoners kindness, allowing them to enjoy a little freedom. 

Had he made the mission harder?

MMMM

After Aramis had disappeared to see to the horses and sort out the food d’Artagnan had gone about dressing and checking his weapons. It had been odd sleeping in the room, knowing that Luc was lying a few yards from them. They could not lie close together as they would normally when they shared a bed, he had not been able to pull his lover close and mould his body around Aramis’.

They had steadfastly remained on opposite sides of the bed. Although d’Artagnan had smiled when he woke up to find Aramis’ hand resting on his arm, under the covers out of sight. He wondered if Aramis had made the move deliberately or had unconsciously sought the contact out as he slept. 

Luc had woken a few minutes before. He seemed a little more nervous now that Aramis was not in the vicinity. 

D’Artagnan noticed the young man looking towards the door. 

‘He’s gone to sort out food for us all.’

Luc looked back at him, ‘thank you for letting me stay in here,’ he said.

D’Artagnan smiled, ‘we need to get you ready. Here, the uniform.’

He passed the neat bundle of clothes to Luc who took them and stared at them for a moment. 

‘I know,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘they are fancy. But that’s what they wear.’

Luc sorted through the bundle and began to dress. D’Artagnan helped him with the bits of the costume he was unfamiliar with. The young man was only used to wearing very simple clothes.

‘I know that you and he are together,’ said Luc.

D’Artagnan paused momentarily before continuing to button up the doublet.

‘I won’t say anything, obviously, but I wondered if there was something wrong? You’ve been looking at him, it’s as though you want to talk to him about something...and he wants to talk to you but neither of you has.’

D’Artagnan stared at Luc, ‘you’re an observant one,’ he said.

‘I could always tell which of the men wanted sex but were too afraid to approach me. I’ve learned to tell when people are hiding things.’

D’Artagnan sighed, ‘we were attacked a few weeks ago. I was forced to do something...to Aramis...which has caused us some issues. We’re sort of stuck, I’m not able to fully get over it. I want to, but...I’m afraid.’

‘You’re a soldier.’

‘Doesn’t stop me being afraid occasionally.’

Luc moved to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. He looked at the uniform he now wore. 

‘You should do everything you can to stop being afraid. Aramis is a very brave man...for what he did for you in the Chatelet…’

D’Artagnan was surprised at the words from the young man, he wondered how much Luc and Aramis had talked the previous day. He guessed Aramis had shared some of his experiences to prove to Luc that he was genuine in his wish to help him. Aramis had been in the Chatelet for the same crime that Luc had been arrested for. They shared a common understanding to a certain extent.

‘I know what he did for me,’ said d’Artagnan after a few seconds. ‘He saved my life.’

‘Then you should do everything to get back to normal with him. You owe him.’

D’Artagnan wished it was as simple as the young man thought it was. That he could just slip back into a normal life with his lover, sleeping with him without the fear he would have flashbacks of hurting Aramis. 

Luc had moved to stand in front of him.

‘Why don’t you want to get back to normal with him?’

‘Because what I did to him was horrific...and there was a moment when I thought it might be better if he were to be killed than endure what I did to him…’

Luc stared at him open-mouthed. 

‘He still loves you though, despite what you must have done. I can see it in the way he looks at you, although…’

‘What?’ D’Artagnan was curious where Luc was going with his observations.

‘There’s something about the way he looks at you as well, an apprehension…I saw it a few times on the men who were going to sleep with me for the first time. The ones that wanted to fuck a man...or boy...but had not built up the courage. Aramis is worried about something.’

D’Artagnan furrowed his brow, he knew Aramis wanted him to recover, knew he wanted them to return to the way their relationship had been, but now that he thought about it he had noticed something odd about his lover's behaviour. It was very small, barely there, but there was something. It had taken Luc pointing it out for d’Artagnan to accept that there was something. 

‘I’m sure you will work it out,’ said Luc with a wiseness beyond his years.

D’Artagnan hoped the young man was right. 

MMMM

Athos found Aramis in the large kitchen. The Musketeer was sorting through the bread that had been delivered that morning. He was humming to himself, Athos thought he recognised a hymn.

‘Are you hoping for divine intervention?’ he asked as he started to collect plates to put on the trays that had been laid out. 

‘Perhaps,’ replied Aramis with a sigh. ‘They have all been so well behaved, I think it might have been better if we had been forced to keep them locked up the whole time.’

‘It does make the job in hand more taxing,’ agreed Athos. ‘I just found Porthos and Anne...together.’

Aramis paused looking at Athos, ‘I could tell he found her attractive and I thought it might have been reciprocated. I hope you weren’t too harsh?’

‘I let him know I was disappointed. He will struggle not to protect her now,’ Athos paused. ‘I hope you will not have the same issue with Luc?’

Aramis nodded, ‘we are professionals. It would have been difficult to follow the plan to the letter anyway, and yes I will be thinking about him but I will follow orders...as will Porthos. You know that.’

Athos thought for a moment, before deciding that he had perhaps been a little too distrusting of his friends.

‘You are right, it was wrong of me to doubt you, or Porthos.’

They continued their work for a few seconds before Athos spoke again. 

‘I wondered how you and d’Artagnan are? I am not one to pry in your personal lives but we, Porthos and I, have noticed that you both seem a little...wary...of each other.’

Athos watched as Aramis slowed his work, he was looking down, it took his friend a few seconds to look back up.

‘We’re taking it slow. He’s struggling a bit, but I’m sure he’ll get there.’

Athos furrowed his eyebrows, Aramis had not mentioned his own recovery at all in the last few days. The man had only ever mentioned how d’Artagnan was suffering or struggling to come to terms with what he had done. 

‘What about you, Aramis? D’Artagnan is not the only one who was affected…’

Athos had never been a particularly personable man, he tried not to get involved in emotional matters. But when he could see his friends clearly suffering and not dealing with their issues it was difficult not to become involved. 

‘Aramis, we know what happened, so you cannot pretend that it was not a horrific attack. Are you trying to deny that it happened, because it was d’Artagnan? We know you do not blame him. But it still happened. You were assaulted in one of the worst possible ways imaginable. You could not fight back, you were helpless. You cannot tell me this has not affected you?’

Aramis turned away from him, leaning back against the large table he had laid the bread on. His head was bowed. Athos moved to stand beside his friend. 

‘I know you find it easier to talk about this sort of thing with d'Artagnan, but when he is so...intimately...involved I would imagine that you have not been able to be completely honest with him.’

Aramis looked away. Athos knew he had touched a nerve, found the thing that was affecting his friend. He did not want to pry into his friend’s relationship, but at the same time, from a professional point of view, he wanted to be sure the issues the pair had would not start to affect their work.

‘Are you frightened of him?’

‘No,’ said Aramis firmly, a shocked look on his face. ‘We’ve been together since the attack. He’s staying overnight with me…’

‘But…’

Aramis had trailed off, he took a breath. 

‘I’m worried that when he does recover enough for us to go back to how we were...I will…’

He trailed off again. 

‘This will not go any further,’ said Athos quietly.

‘I am worried that then it will be me who struggles. That I will suffer, remembering what happened. What...he did.’

‘Have you talked to him about this?’

Aramis shook his head.

‘You are more concerned about his welfare. Aramis, sometimes, no, often, you forget yourself in favour of others welfare.’

Aramis nodded, ‘it is a fault, that I’m not willing to change.’

‘Is there anything I, or Porthos, could do to help you both. Talk to d’Artagnan perhaps?’

Aramis shook his head, ‘no, I just have to face it. I need to talk to him about it. I was actually quite pleased to have this mission as a distraction for a few days. I think he was as well.’

‘Do not let it become an issue between you. We need you both back to normal.’

Aramis smiled, ‘I’m sorry we’ve caused you issues.’

Athos went back to his task for a few seconds before he realised Aramis had not moved.

‘Was there something else?’

‘The place where the ambush is supposed to happen,’ said Aramis, ‘it’s near the home of a man I know. We don’t have much contact nowadays but I do still write to him and he has often invited me to visit him.’

‘Are you talking about,’ Athos paused trying to think of the man’s name, ‘Louis-Charles?’

Aramis nodded. 

Athos remembered, years before, Aramis talking about the man. He had not really paid much attention at the time. They had all had a few drinks and were talking about their first experiences with sleeping with other people. Aramis had spoken fondly of the man who had first prevented him from being assaulted and then taken him as a lover for a few months. Aramis had mentioned that Louis-Charles had moved out of the city to live on a large estate that had been given to him in a will.

‘Perhaps you should visit him?’

‘I doubt we’ll have time,’ replied Aramis before going back to his work. 

Athos knew Aramis was correct, but he filed the information away. If he got the chance to help his friends, he would.

MMMM

Porthos had quickly gathered his clothes together and dressed. Anne had remained asleep, her pretty face only marked by the fading bruises. He knew he had made a mistake sleeping with her. He should not have allowed it to happen. But in that moment, it was the only thing he had wanted to do. 

He remembered a couple of years before talking to Aramis about how to treat a woman. He had been trying to charm a recently widowed lady and although he had managed to get her into bed the relationship had not gone very far and he could not work out why. Aramis had suggested he let the lady take the lead. 

The idea had initially been a bit odd to him, but when he allowed the lady to dictate the pace of their next encounter she obviously enjoyed herself a lot more, as had Porthos.

The lady, obviously out of his social class, had moved on after a few months. But Porthos still enjoyed the warmth of a woman next to him. Anne had made it very clear she wanted to be with him and he had allowed it to happen. 

Or had she perhaps led him on? She dictated the pace during their time together. Porthos was starting to wonder if she had, perhaps unconsciously, taken advantage of him? 

Not that Porthos minded. 

But as Athos had rightly said, he was attracted to her, and now that attraction could jeopardise their mission. Porthos had to remember the orders. The men who were going to attack the carriage were the ones he would have to concentrate on. He had to attack, not protect.

Porthos looked at the sleeping women for a few seconds. He knew the rest of the day was going to be difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first man Aramis was with is mentioned in 'Making Memories'; Porthos took advice from Aramis in 'Porthos and the awkward conversations'.


	7. The Attack

The prisoners were all dressed in their borrowed clothes. Henri looked uncomfortable and Jean’s doublet was a little big for the slight man but the brothers looked ready for the mission. They had helped Athos and d’Artagnan load the extra weapons into the carriage and with Aramis had worked out how they would keep them loaded and handed out from the confines of the carriage. 

Porthos and Aramis, with an increasingly confident Luc, had dealt with hitching up the two horses to pull the carriage. Aramis had switched to the uniform of a coachman, ready to drive the horses with Luc at his side. Porthos had suggested that when the attack occurred, Aramis would be best placed to cover the rest of them with the guns the brothers were going to keep loaded. Luc could help with handing them back once they had been fired. They had removed the glass at the front of the carriage to make the plan work. 

The two women were standing to the side watching the men work. Porthos noticed that Anne was following his every move. He was not sure how to deal with the situation he had created. He knew he could not undo what had been done and did not really want to but he also knew nothing further could happen. 

Athos had been right to berate him. His friend had been giving him disapproving looks since they assembled in the yard to prepare for the mission. Porthos knew Athos had not finished with him and would accept whatever punishment was dealt. 

D’Artagnan helped the women into the carriage earning himself a stroke on the cheek from the ever tactile Marie. Henri and Jean climbed in as well. They arranged themselves as the Royal family would, with the Henri and Anne sat facing forward and Jean with Marie beside him, sat opposite. 

Athos slowly walked passed the carriage on both sides looking in.

‘I think they will pass a brief inspection. I do not think the attackers will spend any time double checking that the people in the carriage are not the King and Queen.’

‘It is a horrible plan, but it is a sound one,’ said Aramis as he helped Luc up to the front of the carriage. 

After Aramis had climbed up next to Luc he took the reins and turned the carriage to face the gate which d'Artagnan was busy opening. Athos had moved closer to the door of the carriage and paused looking in. 

‘I would just like to thank you all. You are being used, and it is appalling. You know that none of us approves of the plan-’

‘Thank us afterwards, Monsieur,’ said Marie.

The other prisoners nodded. 

‘I will,’ replied Athos before moving back. 

Porthos handed him the reins to his horse, Athos glared at him briefly before mounting up. Porthos hoped the others had not noticed, he knew he needed to make his peace with his friend. 

As they moved out of the courtyard he wondered if he would get the chance before the ambush.

The carriage was plain, the idea being that only the men who were going to ambush them would know it was the Royal family. The intelligence they had told them that the men were going to be expecting exactly what they were going to get. A plain carriage with four occupants and three or four guards. 

What the attackers would not know was that they were expected and that the guards were going to fight back, rather than protect the King or try to get the carriage away.

Porthos watched as Luc kept looking behind them and all around, his nervousness obvious. Porthos caught Aramis’ eye and nodded towards the young man. 

‘Luc, I know you are nervous but you cannot let our attackers know that we are expecting them. Just act normally,’ said Aramis in a calm tone. 

Luc nodded, but the anxious expression remained. Porthos hoped that the young man would not prove to be a liability. Rather as he hoped he would not endanger the mission with misplaced protection towards Anne. 

MMMM

They travelled in formation out of the city. The plain carriage did not draw attention. The Musketeers drew a few glances but nothing more. As they neared the spot that the attack was supposed to happen Porthos pulled his horse close enough to the occupants of the carriage to talk to them. 

‘When they start, keep your heads down,’ he said, his gaze lingering on Anne for a few seconds. ‘Keep those weapons loaded for Aramis, he’s quick, don’t leave him with nothing to fire.’

The brothers nodded. Henri and Jean had arranged the weapons and what they needed around the carriage, the two women appeared ready to offer what assistance they could. Porthos was impressed with them all. 

He moved on to talk to Aramis who glanced down at him.

‘Try not to get yourself shot,’ he said with a grin.

Aramis chuckled. Porthos always enjoyed the bravado they shared before a battle. The unspoken words between them all, ones of love and camaraderie. They always knew each battle could be their last, they always expected to lose one of their number. They were soldiers, it was what they did. 

Luc still looked apprehensive, but was a lot calmer than he had been. Porthos hoped the young man was not injured or killed, he knew Aramis would feel to blame after releasing him from the prison.

Porthos moved his horse away from the carriage, further forward, towards Athos. 

‘I know what you are going to say,’ Athos glanced at him as he spoke. 

‘And you know I need to clear the air before this starts,’ replied Porthos with a nod towards the rapidly approaching thicket of trees where they were expecting to be ambushed. 

Athos nodded, ‘you are a fool, but you know that, so I do not see that there is any issue between us. Just be careful and remember the orders.’

Porthos smiled sadly with a quick glance back at the carriage, ‘I will,’ he said. 

The first gunshot was a surprise. They had expected to be further into the thicket of trees. But the attackers had other ideas. Porthos quickly moved back, pulling his gun at the same time. He glanced towards the carriage and saw that both Anne and Marie had done as he suggested. They were keeping down, Anne had moved to the floor of the carriage, Marie had her arms around the younger woman, talking to her. 

Satisfied that they were as safe as they could be, he knew he could concentrate on the fight. A man ran towards him, sword aloft, Porthos calmly shot him in the head. A second and third man appeared at his side, one of them, a big man grabbed at him strongly enough to wrench him from his saddle pulling him roughly to the floor. His footing lost he ended up on one knee. He pushed the bigger man away, but could not prevent the second man from hitting him with a stout stick. 

As the man raised the stick a second time Porthos was pleased to see the man stumble backwards, blood pouring from his neck where he had been shot. Aramis was making the most of his supply of loaded guns. 

Unable to thank his friend Porthos did the next best thing and went to work on the bigger man who had regained his footing and was squaring up to him. The man had no weapon other than his bulk. Porthos swung at the man with his sword, surprised that he managed to deflect the blade with his arm, the thick leather of the man’s doublet preventing any injury. Realising that a different tactic was required Porthos took a small step back and lunged forward quickly, the blade penetrating the man’s chest. As blood bubbled in the man’s mouth he looked at Porthos with a shocked expression. Porthos had no time to reflect. More men had arrived in the time it took him to deal with the first.

MMMM

Aramis had pushed Luc down to sit on the footboard in front of the seat, the young man would be a little better protected there but could still pass the empty guns through the missing window to the brothers who were already working hard keeping the weapons loaded. 

There were more men than they had anticipated. Aramis was pleased they had been able to trust the prisoners enough to give them loaded weapons. He was sure they would have been overwhelmed otherwise. 

Luc was also proving useful, he was taking each gun as soon as Aramis fired it and passing it back to the brothers. His hands were shaking but he was working quickly and without question. 

They had talked more on the journey. The young man had asked about battles and skirmishes. Aramis had told him, without embellishment or covering up the bloody truth, of what a battle was like. Luc had looked shocked at some of the things Aramis said. 

Luc had asked if Aramis had any children, the Musketeer could not help a smile as he explained that he did. Luc, his eyes wide, had listened to how the birth of Aramis’ son had come about. The young man had laughed when Aramis pointed out that his son had changed his name to ‘Luc’ when he was masquerading as a Musketeer cadet. 

The conversation had faltered a few times, but on the whole been good. Aramis was pleased the young man felt comfortable to talk after only a day out of the prison and away from his previous life. Luc was intelligent, but his upbringing had left him with no skills, the young man had no prospects. Aramis wondered what he could suggest he do after their work was done?

‘Behind you,’ said Luc urgently as he grabbed the spent weapon from him.

Aramis took the next gun that was handed to him by Henri and twisted in his seat. He saw what Luc was worried about. Two men were moving up behind d’Artagnan who had been engaged in a sword fight with two slight men. D’Artagnan had finished off one and was probably not far off dealing with the second, he was unaware of the threat behind him. 

The two men were moving forward carefully, keeping themselves out of sight of d’Artagnan. One had a dagger in his hand, the other a drawn sword. 

Aramis worked fast, he reached back and grabbed a second gun, raising them in tandem. He fired them one after the other within a couple of seconds, both the potential killers crumpled to the floor. One was dead, the other would die quickly as blood pooled beneath him. 

Luc took the guns and passed them back to Jean who was reaching forward for them. Henri had read the situation and handed Aramis two more guns. The marksman scanned the area. Porthos was still dealing with two men, but appeared to have the fight under control. D’Artagnan had finished off his opponent and turned to find the two bodies behind him, he glanced at Aramis and nodded his thanks before moving forward and taking on another attacker.

Aramis guessed they still had a dozen men to deal with as he raised one of his guns and took out a man who thought he could sneak past and get to the occupants of the carriage. 

Athos was fighting two men on the other side of the carriage. Aramis was startled by a cry of pain from his friend, he quickly moved to see what had happened. But Henri had worked fast, he opened the carriage door and pulled the injured Musketeer into the carriage before firing the gun he was still holding towards one of the men, the shot hitting him in the side. The man was not injured badly enough to stop him fighting, Aramis rectified the situation with the second gun he was holding. 

Knowing that Athos was at least out of reach of further harm Aramis went back to his task. Keeping the dwindling enemy force away from the carriage and watching d’Artagnan and Porthos’ backs. 

MMMM

The wound to his arm had come as a slight surprise. Athos prided himself on being able to read his opponents, to be able to predict their next move. The untrained man had been lucky, the trained man had been keeping Athos’ attention and the untrained man had got a strike in that forced Athos back a couple of paces. He ended up with his back to the carriage a shocked cry of pain leaving his mouth before he could suppress it. The two men advanced on him. 

Before he could raise his left arm in defence, his main gauche ready, the carriage door was opened and he was grabbed by Henri. Athos found himself pulled further into the carriage before the man playing the King, raised the gun in his hand and fired at the untrained swordsman. The man stumbled back before being shot a second time, Athos guessed by Aramis, and collapsing to the ground. The second swordsman, the trained man stared at the people in the carriage for a few seconds. Athos knew he had worked out the plan. 

The man opened his mouth to shout out, perhaps to call the other men off, but his words were never formed as he too was shot from above. 

Athos did not have time to wonder what the man would have shouted as Jean was pulling him up to sit, undoing his doublet and pushing it off his injured arm. Athos screwed his eyes shut as the injured limb was liberated from his jacket and Jean ripped his shirt sleeve. He looked at the wound, it was not as bad as it could have been, the injury was not deep, but was long. Athos did not think it would need stitches. 

‘Bind it quickly,’ he said as he realised he was breathing fast. 

As Jean pulled a bandage from the medical bag which had been stowed under the seats, Athos looked about him. 

Marie and Anne were sat huddled on the other side of the carriage. Anne looked pale, Marie looked concerned, neither woman spoke. 

Henri had gone back to loading the weapons, he had switched from not only handing them up to Aramis but firing the odd one, when one of the attackers got too close to the carriage. Henri glanced at Athos who nodded his approval. With him out of commission temporarily they needed the extra help. 

Luc was popping up and down taking and returning guns, he had adapted his role in the skirmish as it progressed. Athos decided the extra pair of hands was what was going to win them the battle. He had no doubt they would win, they had already taken out most of the men. Aramis was firing his guns less frequently which implied to Athos that both d’Artagnan and Porthos were in sword fights that they could handle and that Aramis did not want to take risks firing towards the Musketeers. Aramis was continually looking about, watching for any further attackers. 

Jean tied off the temporary bandage and pulled Athos’ doublet back up his arm. Athos found himself being supported by the prisoner for a few seconds as a wave of pain washed over him.

‘Thank you,’ he said with sincerity as Jean handed him back his sword.

Jean nodded and helped him to scramble back out of the carriage, back towards the end of the melee. 

MMMM

D’Artagnan managed to twist his sword around and punch the short man hard to the head. The man stumbled back and fell to the floor, unconscious. 

Panting, d’Artagnan looked around, he saw Porthos busy restraining a second man who had a nasty bruise across his forehead. Athos was checking the man’s breathing as Porthos worked. 

As he bound the man he had hit, d’Artagnan tried to work out how many men had attacked them. Far more than they had been expecting. They had been lucky. None of his friends seemed to have been injured badly. Athos was favouring his left arm, his right held across his front, his doublet was undone which implied to d’Artagnan that Athos had been forced to deal with an injury in the middle of the battle.

Porthos was rubbing at his shoulder but appeared unharmed otherwise. Aramis and Luc were in the process of checking the two carriage horses over. They were restless but not injured. 

‘I think we got off lightly,’ said Porthos with a grin. ‘What happened to you?’

‘Lucky sword strike,’ replied Athos, ‘Jean patched me up whilst Henri kept them at bay. They both did a fine job.’

‘As did Luc,’ added Aramis with a friendly slap of the young man’s back. 

Luc was smiling despite still shaking a little. D’Artagnan well remembered the confused feeling he had felt after his first skirmish. The young man would probably need a while to order his thoughts.

Henri and Jean climbed out of the carriage and looked at the bodies that littered the ground. 

‘You did well, Messieurs,’ said Athos, ‘I do not think we would have managed without your help.’

‘We were keeping ourselves alive as well,’ replied Henri. ‘Did you manage to take any alive? That was the point of this after all.’

Athos nodded towards the two restrained men.

‘Monsieur Porthos.’

They all looked around as Marie spoke from the door of the carriage. Her expression was sad. Porthos moved forward quickly. Marie climbed down and held the door open. D’Artagnan could see Anne sitting on the floor of the carriage, she was very pale, her hand was clutched to her stomach but blood was seeping through her fingers. 

Porthos gently lifted her from the carriage and lay her on the ground, supporting her shoulders. He placed his hand over the wound. 

Marie knelt beside them, ‘she was hit with the first gunshot. I don’t think it hurt, she didn’t cry out, only gasped. I got her onto the floor, I didn’t know what else to do…’

D’Artagnan watched as Aramis rushed up and knelt on the other side of Anne, he lifted Porthos’ hand up to look at the wound before pushing it back down, his own hand lingering over Porthos’ for a few seconds.

Aramis looked up at Porthos and shook his head. Porthos’ nodded his understanding. There was nothing that could be done. 

Anne reached her hand up and cupped Porthos’ cheek, she pulled him closer and spoke quietly to him. Porthos nodded. 

Aramis indicated for Marie to move away, he helped her up to stand. They all retreated a few yards. Luc sniffed a couple of times before wiping his eyes. Aramis put his arm around the young man. They watched in silence. 

D’Artagnan wondered what the woman was saying to Porthos, who had twisted around to hold her more fully. She seemed relaxed and at ease in his arms. Tears fell from Porthos’ eyes. D’Artagnan looked away, he noticed the others had also either turned or looked away as well. It had been obvious that she was attracted to him.

The initial relief that the fight was over was now lost. They knew that the prisoners were expendable, but none of them had wanted to see any of them die. 

D’Artagnan glanced back at the pair sat huddled on the ground in front of the carriage. Porthos slowly reached up and gently closed Anne’s eyes. She had been looking up at him. He kissed her on the cheek before holding her tightly for a few seconds. 

‘Let’s get these bodies moved,’ said d’Artagnan quietly.

He moved away, Henri and Jean followed him. Aramis and Luc moved off towards the Musketeer’s horses which had wandered off from the fighting and were standing several yards away. 

D’Artagnan glanced back to Porthos who had not moved from his spot, holding the now dead young woman in his arms. 

MMMM

Anne could barely speak as she pulled Porthos closer to her. He leaned in, trying desperately not to show how grief-stricken he was. When Aramis had looked at him and shaken his head Porthos had not quite known how to react. Exactly what they had expected to happen had. They had never expected the prisoners to all survive, and yet they had been friendly towards them, offered them hospitality. The prisoners had all behaved. 

Anne did not deserve her fate. Porthos wished he could take it away.

‘Remember what I asked,’ her voice was no more than a whisper, her words cracking as she spoke. ‘Please tell my...daughter...tell her I did it for her.’

Porthos nodded, trying not to cry. He was aware of the others moving away from him. 

‘He would have hurt her...I had to do it.’

‘I know you did. You did the right thing,’ said Porthos quietly. 

He moved slightly to hold her tighter, to make sure she was as comfortable as she could be. She was no longer keeping any pressure on the wound, Porthos tried not to look at the blood that was staining the pale dress dark red. 

‘Tell her I love her…’

‘I will.’

‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘For being kind…’

The spark in her eyes faded as she became heavy in his arms. He sniffed a couple of times before closing her eyes and kissing her gently on the cheek.


	8. Endings and New Beginnings

After a few seconds, he looked up to find Athos standing by him looking down. Porthos looked away not wishing to speak to him. Athos leaned forward and squeezed his shoulder. 

‘Take your time, we will deal with everything else.’

Porthos looked up at Athos, whose expression was not one of accusation, but of sadness. Athos was not going to berate him about the previous night. Porthos nodded his thanks.

Athos walked off after offering his arm to Marie who was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. 

Porthos remained where he was as the rest of their party moved the bodies to lie together before loading the two captured men into the carriage, firmly bound and gagged. 

Henri and Jean walked off with d’Artagnan, returning a while later and talking quietly to Athos and Aramis. Athos approached him. 

‘Henri and Jean have found a spot near a stream that would be suitable for us to bury her,’ he said. 

Porthos nodded. Henri and Jean stepped forward and helped to lift the woman. Once he was standing, Porthos took control and carried her on his own, led by Aramis to the spot they had found. They lay her down. Marie used a shawl to cover the dead women. 

Luc put his arm around Porthos as Aramis said a few words from the bible. The little group stood silently for a few minutes before the brothers began to fill in the unexpected grave. 

Porthos was led back to the site of the fight by Luc who made him sit down before sitting next to him. 

‘You gave her something that she ain’t had in years,’ said Marie. 

‘I know,’ replied Porthos. ‘But she didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve to die…’

‘No,’ said Marie, ‘but she would have died anyway, and you saw that she was loved at the end. She wouldn’t have had that otherwise.’

MMMM

Athos looked up as Aramis approached him, he was carrying a money bag. The bag looked full, Athos wondered where his friend had got the money from. 

‘We’re going to let them go, aren’t we?’

Athos nodded, ‘that is what Treville intimated we should do. I intend to tell them shortly. Although I am not sure what kind of lives they will have. They cannot go back to Paris in case they are recognised.’

He glanced at the bag in Aramis’ hands, the Musketeer was fiddling with it.

‘Where did that come from?’

Aramis was silent for a few seconds, he looked away. Looking at d’Artagnan who was sat with Porthos and Luc.

‘It’s the money we were given by Clement.’

Athos stared at Aramis. He knew the wealthy man had paid his friends for the abuse they received. He had not realised the money had been kept by the pair.

‘D’Artagnan didn’t know what to do with it. Neither of us want it...I wondered if we could split it between them. There’s enough for them to be able to look after themselves for a while…’

Athos could see the haunted look in Aramis’ eyes as he was forced to remember the horrific assault. Now that the mission they were currently on was nearly over, the trauma Aramis and d’Artagnan had suffered would again surface. 

‘I think that is a very good idea. Let the money do some good.’

Aramis smiled, ‘I’ll split it between them.’

Athos watched his friend walk away and settle himself on a fallen tree trunk counting out four piles of money. As Aramis worked d’Artagnan wandered over to him. The younger man sat opposite Aramis, watching the man count out the money. Athos wondered if there was anything that could be done to help the pair put the demons of the assault on them both behind them?

With a sigh, Athos returned his thoughts to the mission. He walked across to Marie and the brothers who were stood talking quietly, as he walked he beckoned Luc over to them. Luc still seemed a little wary of him, Athos understood, he had been less than impressed when Aramis had wanted the boy to join them.

‘I wanted to thank you both for what you did for me earlier,’ said Athos, ‘you probably saved me from further injury. You acted quickly.’

‘It was the least we could do,’ said Jean, ‘to be honest I don’t think we really thought about what we were doing.’

‘You’ve all shown us more respect in the last couple of days than I think we could ever have expected,’ said Henri. 

Athos paused for a few moments, making sure he had their full attention.

‘We are not going to take you back with us. We never had any intention of doing so. I am sorry to have deceived you on that part.’

‘I guessed that might be the case,’ said Marie. ‘You are good men.’

Aramis and d’Artagnan joined Athos. Aramis stepped towards Marie and reached for her hand, he dropped several coins into her palm. She stared at the coins, then looked up at Aramis, her eyes wide. 

‘That’s more than I’d make in...years.’

D’Artagnan held out his hands toward the brothers who each received a similar pile of coins. 

‘This should set you up,’ said Aramis, ‘you can’t go back to Paris. Spend it wisely.’

Luc held out his hand as Aramis dropped the last pile of coins into his hand.

‘But I’m not even meant to be here-’

Athos said, ‘without you, Luc, we would not have managed to beat them all. You may not have been part of the original group, but you proved invaluable. Thank you.’

Luc looked at Athos for a few seconds before saying, ‘thank you, Monsieur.’

Marie looked at the money in her hand before glancing across at Porthos who was still stood a short distance away. The Musketeer was facing away from them, lost in thought. Athos knew his friend was trying not to let the recent events affect him.

Marie walked up to him, ‘I wonder if you might give Anne’s daughter her share? I’ll never need all this. But that girl could do with some help, I’m sure.’

As she spoke she took a few of the coins and pushed them into Porthos’ hand. The brothers looked at each other before Jean handed Henri some of his coins and Henri crossed to Porthos passing more coins to him. Porthos smiled at them. Luc was not far behind the others, he handed some of his own coins over.

‘I’ll see she gets this,’ Porthos said.

MMMM

Aramis had checked on the welfare of the two captive men, he had given them water and checked that their bindings were not too tight. Despite knowing they would probably not be treated well when they were taken for interrogation Aramis did not want to add to their suffering. He had mixed feelings, knowing the men would no doubt be tortured. But he also knew he had to put those feelings aside. The men were guilty of trying to kill them all. He knew it was different from what he and Luc had been accused of. But it was still not easy to accept. 

He watched Luc for a few seconds. The young man was looking at the money he had been given, but he did not look very sure of himself. Aramis guessed the young man was now faced with some difficult times. 

‘You said Louis-Charles lived near here,’ said Athos who had appeared beside his friend. 

Aramis nodded not understanding.

‘Do you think he might be able to help our young friend?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Aramis, a little stunned by the suggestion. ‘I could write Luc a letter of introduction-’

‘I think you should introduce him yourself,’ said Athos turning to look Aramis in the eyes. 

Aramis was unsure how to respond. 

‘You and d’Artagnan...you should take Luc. You said yourself that your friend had extended an open invitation to you. Go and see him.’

Aramis began to understand what Athos was saying. Athos was referring to their previous conversation.

‘You know it always helps you to talk about your problems. Talk to him. You've said you can't talk to d'Artagnan,’ said Athos. ‘Porthos and I can deal with the prisoners...the new prisoners.’

Aramis took a deep breath before responding, ‘thank you,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I’ve really faced it have I?’

‘No, you haven’t,’ replied Athos, ‘as usual you’ve been more interested in looking after everyone else. Although this time I don’t think you want to face your problems at all.’

Aramis shook his head, he knew he had been putting off the inevitable. Knew that once the mission had been over and d’Artagnan had recovered, because he knew his lover would recover, he would have to face his own problems. He was a little embarrassed to have Athos be the one who made him realise what he had done. His quiet friend was putting him on the path to his recovery. 

‘Keep an eye on Porthos for me will you?’ he asked, glancing over to their friend who was talking to Marie and the brothers, whilst sorting them out some provisions from what was left of their own.

‘I will. I think once he’s visited Anne’s daughter and mother he will be able to accept what happened.’

‘We’re all causing you problems at the moment, aren’t we? Perhaps it’s time for you to have a crisis of some sort...we could rally around.’

Athos huffed out a laugh, ‘you could try.’

MMMM

Athos watched the group of people as they said their goodbyes. He had only known the prisoners for two days but despite trying to remain professional and distant from them was sorry to see them go. 

He was pleased they would at least have some funds to start them off on their new lives. The brothers and Marie had talked about pooling their share. They were going to travel to a city, away from Paris, and see if they could purchase a shop or start a business. None of the three had any particular skills but Athos was sure the wily former prostitute and the two young men would work something out between them. 

Luc had managed to speak to him alone and thank him for allowing him to join the group. Athos had reiterated that although he had not agreed initially he was sure they would not have won without his help. Luc had smiled at him and shaken his hand. The change from scared boy to confident young man was something that pleased Athos. 

Aramis had told Luc where they were going and although it was obvious the young man was a little apprehensive he had agreed and thanked the Musketeer again. D’Artagnan had looked a little confused when he learned that he was going with them, but had not said anything, merely gone about preparing their horses. 

Athos hoped the trip would help his friends. He hoped that giving Aramis the opportunity to talk to someone who had not been involved in the traumatic events would help him. They needed the two men back to normal, outwardly the Musketeers were fine, but Athos could see the slight differences and he disliked seeing his friends suffer. 

Porthos still looked a little unfocused. Anne’s death had affected him, but Athos was confident the man would conduct himself properly. They had known it was a possibility, she had known it was a possibility. But that did not make it any easier. Athos was sure that her death would have saddened them even without Porthos’ misjudged actions the previous night. 

He shook hands with the brothers and allowed Marie to embrace him. The three walked off, Athos suspected they would do well, despite their very different backgrounds.

Porthos was holding the reins to Aramis’ horse as his friend helped Luc up behind him. The young man still looked a little unsure of what his future held.

‘We’ll be back in a few days time,’ said Aramis. ‘That should be enough time to see that Luc gets settled…’

Athos nodded, he maintained eye contact with Aramis for a few seconds, a silent message of goodwill passing between them. 

MMMM

Porthos knocked on the door, he noted the slight decay around the edges of the wood. The whole building that housed the rooms where Anne’s mother lived could do with work. He sighed reminded of his own upbringing, although he knew the area he was in was better, it could still be improved. 

The door was opened by a girl of about fourteen years. Pothos had to stop himself from reacting too much. She was the image of her mother. 

The girl looked at him, her eyes wide.

‘Hello,’ he said in as friendly a manner as he could muster, ‘I wondered if I might talk to you, and your grandmother?’

The girl glanced away for a few seconds as an older woman appeared behind her. 

‘What do you want, monsieur?’

‘It’s about your daughter…’

The older woman gasped.

‘I thought we’d be told, I wanted to try to see her one last time...there was no hangings today…’

Porthos realised he had gone about his introductions in the wrong way.

‘May I come in? This will take a while to explain.’

Warily the older woman nodded before stepping back to allow the Musketeer to enter. The property consisted of two small rooms, a curtain separating the rear room from view, Porthos guessed the second room was where the two women slept. 

Anne’s daughter had moved to stand behind her grandmother as she sat in a chair by a rickety table, she was holding the older woman's hand, tears running down her cheeks. 

Porthos explained what had happened, he told them nearly everything. He realised as he spoke that he was, at times struggling himself. He had only known the woman for two days but her gentle nature and courage had affected him deeply. 

Anne’s mother listened intently to every word. Porthos wondered if she could read between the lines; if she could tell that something more had happened between him and her daughter?

As he concluded his retelling of events by describing the spot where they had buried her he realised he had tears in his own eyes. 

‘She wanted me to pass on a message to you,’ said Porthos looking at Anne’s daughter. 

The girl nodded.

‘She wanted you to know that she loves you and what she did...she did it for you. And she is one of the bravest women I have had the honour of knowing.’

The girl took a step forward, she reached out and took Porthos’ hand. 

‘I know what she did, monsieur,’ she said. ‘And I know that she was brave. She did it for me, and I love her for that…’

Anne’s mother let out a sob. The girl returned to her grandmother's side and held her in a tight embrace. Once the older women had composed herself she pushed herself up to stand.

‘Monsieur,’ she said, ‘I can tell you were fond of my Anne. And I can tell from what you have said that she perhaps was glad you were there…’

Porthos did not respond.

The woman opened a drawer in a small sideboard. She pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Porthos. 

‘It was her’s, she had a very neat hand, her embroidery was always the best I saw.’

Porthos looked at the neat stitches, imagining Anne sitting in the sunlight sewing the letters.

‘Thank you for what you did Monsieur. I am sure you made her last days more bearable.’

The woman gave Porthos a knowing look. She had worked out what had happened between them. 

Porthos reached into his pocket and pulled out the share of money that the other prisoners had set aside for Anne. 

‘The prisoners were not meant to be released or paid,’ he said, ‘but this money was given to us by a...friend, to do with as we saw fit. This is Anne’s share. We wanted you to have it.’

Anne’s daughter took the money, her eyes wide with surprise.

‘Thank you, monsieur,’ she said.

The older woman stepped forward and embraced Porthos, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Clutching the handkerchief, Porthos left the two women to their grief, knowing that the money would not bring Anne back, but it would help them to lead slightly better lives in her absence. 

MMMM

They had stopped to water the horses. Luc had wandered off to refill their waterskins. 

D’Artagnan sat on the grass next to Aramis who had stretched out on his back and moved his hat to cover his eyes. 

‘Why am I here?’

Aramis shifted his hat to look at d’Artagnan.

‘In a philosophical sense?’

‘You know what I mean. It doesn’t really take two of us to visit your friend and ask if he can help Luc. I don’t understand why Athos wanted me to accompany you.’

D’Artagnan watched as Aramis ordered his thoughts, his lover sat up.

‘Louis-Charles is the man I told you about...the first man.’

D’Artagnan stared at Aramis for a few seconds as he took in the information. It had not occurred to him that Aramis had never said the name of the man who had taught him to be the kind and considerate lover that he was. D’Artagnan well remembered his lover taking him to the secluded spot that he had experienced his first time with a man. But the entire time Aramis had only referred to that man as ‘the man’ or ‘my first lover’ never by his name. 

‘I still don’t understand why I’m going.’

Aramis sighed, ‘because I need someone to talk to about us. About what happened. I need someone, that isn’t you, that I can really talk to about what happened. I’ve talked to Athos and Porthos, but they don’t really understand. They want to help but they can’t. Not really.’

D’Artagnan was confused, ‘but you said you were happy to wait. I’m trying, Aramis, I really am I just don’t think I’m ready to sleep with you...like that. I thought you were alright with it.’

Aramis put his arm around d’Artagnan and pulled him closer. D’Artagnan allowed his lover to hold him, despite not really wanting to be near him at that moment.

‘I know you are trying to get back to normal...it’s just...I’m struggling as well.’

D’Artagnan pushed away from his lover and stared at him. Aramis had his head bowed. 

‘You never said...you said you would wait, that it was fine, that...you were fine.’

D’Artagnan realised how stupid he had been. His lover had done what he always did. Aramis had been more concerned for his well being. But really Aramis was the one who had suffered the most. And d’Artagnan had completely overlooked it. He had been so overwhelmed by his own feelings of guilt that he had forgotten what the consequence of his actions were. He had hurt Aramis. They both knew and understood that he had no choice, but it has still happened. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Don’t be, I should have told you,’ replied Aramis sadly.

D’Artagnan thought for a moment, ‘but that still doesn’t explain why I’m going. Surely you need time alone to talk to Louis-Charles. You need some time away from me.’

Aramis shook his head, ‘I was hoping that we could talk to him together as well. He’s an incredible listener, if he can help me, which I’m sure he can, he’ll be able to help you as well. We need to get over this. I know we can’t make it go away completely, but we need to get over it.’

D’Artagnan knew his lover was right. The last few days had been a good distraction but it had only put off the inevitable. They had to face their demons. 

And with the help of Aramis’ friend they could do that, he was sure, now that he understood. D’Artagnan pulled Aramis back into an embrace. He wondered what the next few days would hold. If it meant getting them both back to normal, d’Artagnan was willing to try anything. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and leaving comments/kudos. It is much appreciated.
> 
> There are at least two more stories knocking about in my head. The obvious follow up to this one, and another dark one (which was inspired by a comment Lady_Neve left nearly a year ago - I pay attention to the comments!).


End file.
